


Grimstone Manor

by SandstoneSunspear



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Implied Murder, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Murder, Non-binary character, Other, Past Bigotry, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2018-12-26 13:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12059979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandstoneSunspear/pseuds/SandstoneSunspear
Summary: The house beyond the graveyard is no place to stay, even if one once roamed its halls. Too bad Aren doesn't have a choice. If they want to reclaim their inheritance and discover the secrets lurking in the halls of Grimstone Manor, they'll have to play Victor's final game.You thought your family feuds were bad? Think again.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this is an original piece that started off as a oneshot and turned into a mini novel. Hope you enjoy.

**Grimstone Manor: The Beginning**

**-**

The buzzing of a phone roused Aren from their sleep. Katherine stirred next to them.

“Mm…it’s yours, babe,” she muttered sleepily before rolling over.

Aren cracked an eye open. They cast an annoyed one-eyed glare at the offending item, hoping that the heat of their gaze would be enough to reduce it to molten slag. It didn’t. Their cell phone continued to buzz away.

“Aren,” Katherine said tiredly. “Answer it or I’ll kick you to the couch for the rest of the week.” They had both just come off a 36-hour call. But she knew, as did Aren, that exhaustion was no reason to ignore their phones, especially given that it was an early call.

Aren fought back a groan. _It’s too early for this shit_. It felt like they had just left the hospital. It was obvious, however, that whoever was on the other end had no intention of letting them go back to sleep. As it continued to vibrate, they finally reached out and grabbed it. They blinked blearily. An unfamiliar number started back at them in the darkness of the bedroom.

They sighed and slid their thumb against the screen. “I just left Duncan, so someone’d better be dying,” they all but growled out. “Because if you’re calling me to tell me you can’t find a chart, you’ll wish you were dead by the time I finish with you.”

Katherine gave them a half-hearted chiding whap on the hip. Despite being an early riser most days, Aren could be such a grouch when awoken early against their will. If Katherine was being honest with herself, she knew she wasn’t much better in that regard. Still, it was frowned upon to threaten interns just because they woke you up for something that turned out to be inconsequential.

A stunned silence answered them. _“Ah, I believe you’ve mistaken me for someone else, sir,”_ a cautious voice said after several moments. _“My name is Rupert Travers. I’m looking to speak with Aren Grimstone.”_ A beat. _“I presume that’s who I’m speaking with?”_

It took a moment for the words to register in Aren’s sleep-muddled mind. When they did, ice suddenly slid through their veins. They had not gone by Grimstone in years, not since their father had changed it to Kaldwell after their flight from the family manor.

They sat up abruptly. “I’m hanging up now.” Their voice was flat. Aside from a select few, no one else knew that they were a part of House Grimstone. “It’s too damn early to deal with you bloody junk callers.”

 _“Sir, wait!”_ Aren paused. Rupert cleared his throat. _“I’m a solicitor with Brown and Coulson, a law firm based—”_

“Based out in London, I know.” Brown and Coulson was a well-respected law firm with a reputation for consistent competence. They were known for their discretion when confronted with sensitive or delicate matters. Prior to his death, it was one of the reasons why their father had called upon their services. “What do you want?”

If Rupert was offended by their short tone, he made no indication of such. He cleared his throat again. Aren imagined him tugging at his tie in discomfort.

 _“I’m on retainer for the Grimstone Estate.”_ _Of course he was,_ Aren thought. _“I’m calling behalf of Lord Victor, your uncle, I believe.”_

Aren’s brow furrowed. On Victor’s behalf? They had not seen nor spoken to the man in almost a decade. What did he want with them?

“Why?”

_“For the reading of Lord Victor’s will.”_

Aren’s eyebrows shot up. “His _what_?” They asked incredulously. “What in the seven hells are you talking about?”

 _“I…”_ A pause. _“Mister Grimstone, are you unaware that your uncle has passed?”_

The breath left Aren’s lungs. “What?”

 _“Oh, dear.”_ Rupert sounded rather distressed. _“I’m terribly sorry that you’ve had to find out this way, but Lord Victor passed away last night. Per his final wishes, he has left his final affairs and those of the estate to you.”_

They were stunned. “…I see. Can you tell me why he left it to me to deal with rather than with you and your firm?” they asked.

 _“I can only assume that he did so due to you being the last, living Grimstone.”_ Aren heard him take a deep breath. _“With that said, I must return to the original purpose of my call: to inform you that, in accordance to Lord Victor’s wishes, there are matters that require your attention.”_

“Such as?” They asked warily.

 _“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss them over the phone,”_ he replied regretfully. _“I must ask that you come to our home office in London so that we may speak of them in person.”_

“When?”

_“Preferably within the next several days, the sooner, the better.”_

Aren sighed. “Very well,” they said. “I’ll have to make some arrangements first, but I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon.”

 _“Understood. I’ll inform the office of your arrival plans.”_ Rupert paused. _“My condolences at your loss.”_

“Thank you.”

-

Aren fell back against the bed with a soft thump. Their phone slipped from their limp grasp, hitting the floor with a resounding thud. At any other time, they would have been concerned at the noise but their mind was too occupied to pay it much attention. Their head spun.

Katherine rolled over to observe her lover. She had no idea what the phone call was about. Whatever had been discussed, it was enough to greatly unnerve Aren.

“I take it that wasn’t Duncan?” She was careful to phrase it as a question. It made clear to Aren that they did not have to answer if they did not want to.

Silence reigned between them. Both imagined that they could hear the pounding of Aren’s heart.

“…no. It was a solicitor with Brown and Coulson,” Aren finally said.

Katherine’s eyebrows rose. _A solicitor, this early?_ She had a feeling that the call had not been to exchange pleasantries. After all, Aren had gone from tired and grumpy to cold and hostile within moments of answering the phone.

“Is everything alright?” If you were not a client, a call from Brown and Coulson rarely bode well. It was usually done as a formality; a heads-up that Brown and Coulson were about to take everything from you. While Katherine and Aren weren’t poor by any means, they certainly didn’t have the assets to take on a suit brought on by an angry individual with a solicitor from the firm on retainer.

“Peachy.” Was Aren’s drawled reply.

“Aren…”

Aren closed their eyes upon hearing the slight hurt in her voice. They regretted their sarcastic tone almost as soon as the words had left their lips. Katherine did not deserve that. It was not her fault. They took a breath to try and center themselves.

“Victor’s dead.”

Katherine sat up fully at that. She flicked on a lamp so she could take a better look at them, not sure she had heard them correctly. She blinked a few times, hearing Aren yelp in the background, as her eyes adjusted to the light in the room. She looked down to see the truth on their face. Her heart lurched at how in shock they seemed.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

Aren let out a breath. “I hadn’t given a thought to Victor or the Grimstone name in years, did you know?” they asked. “Never had a reason to. Man made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with me or my father after we left the bloody place.”

Katherine said nothing, deciding to let them say their piece. She knew how sensitive a subject the Grimstone family was for them, despite having been estranged for the decade. They would always plaster on a fake smile to disguise their discomfort whenever someone in town disparage the mysterious family in front of them. On more than one occasion, Katherine had been ready to rip a man a new asshole on behalf of her lover, only to be gently rebuffed by them. At first, it frustrated her. It was only after Aren revealed how they’d come to be estranged did she finally understand: the reputation of the Grimstone family meant that no good would come from confronting problems involving it.

“Then some damn solicitor calls up and tells me that not only is the Victor _dead_ ,” they spat. “But the bloody bastard left me in charge of his final affairs and those of the gods damned estate!”

Aren was fuming. By now, their shock had worn off. In its place was a seething rage. They had encountered Victor in passing several times over the years. His lack of acknowledgement at their presence served to make it painfully clear that he no longer recognized them as a member of his family. _And yet, he would leave it to me to finalize everything._ The thought left a sour taste in their mouth.

“Babe,” Katherine soothed. She placed a hand on their shoulder, drawing their attention to her. “You don’t have to meet with them.”

Aren pinched the bridge of their nose. “I know that, Kath,” they said, frustration coloring their tone. “It’s just…fucking hell, I don’t know what Victor’s angle is here. The man didn’t even come to my father’s funeral!”

Katherine pulled Aren to her, leaning back so that their head was on her chest. She ran her fingers through their hair. The motion seemed to calm them down somewhat.

“He refused to let me bury my father at the Manor, Kath,” they said quietly.

“I know.” She remembered that day vividly. Aren had contacted Victor in the hopes that, despite the estrangement, he would allow his brother to be interred at Grimstone Manor. They were devastated when they were told that he, in no uncertain terms, would refuse to allow Fredrick Kaldwell’s body to pass through the gates.

“He denied my father, his own brother, his death rites.” Just thinking about it filled Aren with fury. After all, the final rites of the dead were sacred to House Grimstone. They were a means to provide closure and protection against the more malicious forces that a Grimstone might’ve encountered while alive due to their…unique abilities. House Grimstone was incredibly reluctant to forgo death rites and would even go out of its way to provide them for members who had become estranged. _At least, it was until Victor became Head_. His refusal to allow their father his rites left a particularly vile taste in their mouth.

“I know.” From what they had told her, the Grimstone family took final rites seriously. Katherine had no idea what they actually entailed; Aren had never gone in to the details. But she knew that the denial of those rites was akin to being stabbed in the chest, if Aren’s reaction the day of their father’s funeral after Victor’s phone call had been anything to go by.

“You know, what makes Victor’s refusal even more deplorable is that my mother’s buried at the Manor,” they remarked. “At least I think she still is.”

Katherine lifted her head slightly. “You think?” she asked in disbelief. _I can’t tell if they’re being serious or trying to lighten the mood._

Aren gave a small shrug. “I’d like to think that, despite everything, Victor had enough honor to leave the grave of his brother’s dead wife alone.”

A troubled silence settled over the two of them. Katherine continued to run her fingers through Aren’s short cropped hair. Aren, for their part, lay on her chest silently contemplating what to do.

“If his final affairs include having to perform the death rites, will you?” Katherine asked after a while.

“Well, as the last Grimstone, the responsibility does fall to me,” they mused. “Whether or not I’ll actually carry them out…” They let out a frustrated breath.

Aren was torn. If they refused to carry them out, they would be no better than Victor. But at the same time, he had denied his own brother, their father, his death rites. _Why should I grant him his?_ Guilt filled them as soon as the thought sullenly crossed their mind. At the end of the day, Victor was still family. To refuse a fellow Grimstone their death rites was unthinkable; it went against everything Aren had been taught and stood for.

 _Damn him_. Katherine, sensing Aren’s growing inner conflict, cursed Victor Grimstone. How dare he put them in this kind of position? He had to have known just how much this would tear at Aren. She certainly did. Her time with them had shown just how important respecting the dead was to them. Aren admitted early on that a great deal of the power that they held came from dealings with the spirits of the dead and forces beyond understanding, as was the case for many of their ancestors. The strength of Aren’s powers made them incredibly sensitive to supernatural matters and wary of disrespecting anything that had been a conscious being.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Aren asked morosely. Victor had backed them into a corner. Those who knew Fredrick Kaldwell had commented on the similarities between father and child on more than one occasion. They shared similar manners, values, even personalities. Fredrick’s honor and sense of duty would never have allowed him to refuse carrying out Grimstone death rites. If Aren was being completely honest with themselves, neither would theirs.

Katherine hummed. “You always have a choice, love,” she murmured. “I’ll support whichever one you end up making.”

Aren said nothing. They shifted and took Katherine’s hand in theirs. There would be time to ponder this further later in the day. For now, both needed rest. Aren, in particular, needed to process what had occurred. Sleeping on it would probably the best course of action to do that.

The discomfort that laced the air faded. In its place was a morbid stillness as both entered an uneasy sleep.


	2. The Last Will and Testament of Lord Victor Grimstone

**** The next morning came much quicker than Aren would have liked. Before they knew it, they were standing in front of the mirror, half-dressed and shirtless save for their binder. They ran their fingers through their damp, short-cropped hair. Shadows under their eyes spoke of a restless night.  _ I’m not ready for this. _ With a sigh, they grabbed their shirt and slipped it on, fingers moving to do up the buttons.

Katherine leaned against the doorway to the bedroom, watching Aren as they dressed. At first glance, it seemed like any other day: Aren already showered and in the processing of getting dressed while she watched for a few moments before going to shower herself as they went off to make breakfast. The calmness in their face that was reflected in the mirror certainly tried to convey that. But even if Katherine had not spent the previous night lying awake as Aren restlessly tossed and turned, the death-grip that they held as they did up the buttons of their shirt told her otherwise. Even from her position, she could clearly see how white their fingers tips were as they clenched the black plastic buttons.  _ If they grip them any tighter, they’ll crack _ . It wouldn’t have been the first time they had managed to do that.

Aren shook out their hands once they had finished buttoning their shirt. They winced at the pins and needles that shot through their fingertips.  _ Guess I was holding on a little harder than normal. _ They eyed their tie, a slip of deep burgundy fabric, hanging from the mirror. They debated whether or not to wear it. On the one hand, lacking a tie made for an informal appearance, something they didn’t want. On the other, they didn’t have the steadiest of hands at the moment and had a high chance of tying their fingers up instead of the tie itself.

Katherine noticed Aren’s struggle. She pushed off the doorway and moved towards them. She placed her hands on their shoulders and turned them around so that they faced her.

“Let me,” she said.

Aren gave her a relieved look. They tilted their head up as her fingers worked their tie. 

“What would I do without you?”

Katherine gave them an amused look. “Probably tie your fingers up,” she teased.

Aren laughed. “True enough.” They could feel the tension bleeding from them at her teasing tone. There was something about her presence that never failed to calm down them down. A small smirk quirked up Aren’s lips.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Katherine. She raised an eyebrow. “What’s so amusing?”

_ I swear she can read my mind. _ Maybe it was because the two of them had been together for so long. Or maybe they were just exceptionally bad at shielding themselves around her.

“Nothing,” they said. “It’s just…thank you.”  _ For being the level headed one, for loving me despite the reputation of my family. _

Katherine returned their smile. “You, sir, are very welcome.” She yanked on their tie gently, tightening the knot to finish it off. She smoothed out their collar. “There.”

Aren turned to look in the mirror. They still looked exhausted, but somehow, the presence of a well-knotted tie made them look more presentable. They grabbed their tweed blazer and slipped it on before turning back to Katherine.

“Well? What do you think?” Aren fancied themselves a competent dresser.  _ Clothes do make the person after all.  _ Still, they couldn’t help the nerves that flared once again. Ten years ago, they had access to fine suits and a father who could give advice on how to properly deal with solicitors from Brown and Coulson. Now, their father was long dead and they were going to meet with the most infamous law firm in London dressed in something that looked more appropriate for a day out in the country rather than an afternoon in an office.

Katherine could see Aren’s nerves starting to rise again. She rushed to reassure them, knowing that if they got themselves worked up again, they’d be a mess by the time they made it to Brown and Coulson’s offices.  

“I think you look well kept, as always,” she assured. Aren bit their lip and unconsciously glanced down at their jacket. It didn’t go unnoticed by her. She sighed. “They’re not going to care that you’re in a tweed coat, Aren.”

“They’re expecting a Grimstone.”  _ And I’m not one.  _ They hadn’t been a Grimstone for over a decade. They had ceased to be Aren Grimstone the night they had fled the manor alongside their father. That wasn’t to say that they weren’t happy being Aren Kaldwell; it was just that there were certain expectations that were held for those of House Grimstone. If they were being honest with themselves, it was the expectations that were giving them pause.

Katherine understood the unspoken part of that statement. Aren rarely spoke of the Grimstone family, but she knew that it, and the reputation that came with the name, were sore spots for them.  _ It doesn’t help that Victor pretty much made it clear that he didn’t consider them to be a Grimstone.  _ His dismissal of Aren had seen to that.  

“You’re a Grimstone,” she said simply. “You going by Kaldwell never changed that, no matter what Victor believed.”

Aren ran their fingers through their short cropped, black hair. “I sure as hell don’t look like one.” A Grimstone never went to formal meetings dressed in tweed. A Grimstone never dyed their hair or wore coloured contacts to hide their eyes. Aren dressed in tweed because they had nothing else. They dyed their hair black and wore coloured contacts to hide the fact that they had Grimstone blood running through their veins.

“And just what is a Grimstone supposed to look like?” Katherine challenged. She held her hand up to keep them from answering. “Don’t tell me, a Grimstone is supposed to be stiff, and formal, and well kept?” She raised an eyebrow at them.

Aren could not fight the smile at her words. “Yes,” they conceded. “A Grimstone is to look all of those things.”

Katherine dusted her hands across their shoulders. “Well guess what, love? You look the part, tweed blazer, dyed hair, coloured contacts and all.”

Aren laughed, the tension finally leaving their body.  _ She’s always had a way with words. _

Katherine smiled as she watched them laugh. It faded quickly, though.

“Aren.” They stopped laughing. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

Aren shook their head. “I’ll be fine,” they said. They took a breath. “They probably just want me to sign papers and discuss what’s to be done with Victor’s remains. It shouldn’t take long.” They frowned. “I hope it doesn’t, at least.”

“Alright.” She glanced at the clock on Aren’s bedside table. “You’d better get going then, it’s a bit of a drive and you don’t want to be late.”

Aren nodded. They grabbed their keys from the dresser and moved to leave.

“I should only be gone a few hours,” they said.

_ Famous last words.  _ “Let’s hope so,” Katherine said. “Best of luck dealing with the sharks.”

Aren chuckled. Before Katherine could blink, Aren was right back in front of her. “I don’t need luck,” they murmured. They pressed a kiss to her lips. “Like you said, I’m a Grimstone.”

Katherine rolled her eyes. She gently swatted them in the arm.

“Get going, Mister  _ Grimstone _ .” 

Aren’s laughter rang throughout the apartment.

-

_ I really shouldn’t have said that I don’t need luck. _ Aren had been relatively calm on the drive to London. They’d spent most of it mulling over what they could possibly be told. Now, with the offices of Brown and Coulson looming over them, that calm had been replaced with dread. 

Aren eyed the doors to Brown and Coulson with trepidation. People milled around them. They checked themselves over, dusting their tweed coat one last time. 

_ Let’s get this over with. _

_ - _

Beatrice looked up from her computer to see what looked to be a young man walk in. From her position behind the desk, she could see him glancing around the office warily. She eyed his black tweed blazer.  _ At least it’s a respectable color. _ His nervous demeanor and dress clashed with the formal air pervading the office. 

Aren took in the offices of Brown and Coulson. There weren’t many people roaming about. A few sat in plush leather arm chairs, faces buried in newspapers or old magazines as they waited for their lawyers. All of them, including the receptionist, looked up when they walked in. Aren could feel the curiosity, and more than a little disdain, coming from them. The receptionist’s scorn was evident. They hadn’t missed her appraisal of the way they were dressed, or the dismissal that rose from her observations.

_ Wonderful.  _ They had only been there a few moments and already things looked like they were about to become more complicated. They fought the nervous urge to adjust their tie. Aren took a breath to gather themselves. They drew upon old memories and countless lessons as they slid a calm, disinterested mask.  _ You’re a Grimstone, dammit. Act like one. _

“Can I help you, sir?” Beatrice asked as the young man approached. She stunned at how his nervous behavior appeared to fade with every step. By the time he reached her, a cool individual stood before her.

They cleared their throat. “I’m here to see Rupert Travers.”

Beatrice’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the name drop. The reputation of Brown and Coulson saw to it that their employees were afforded a great respect, even by the wealthiest of individuals. Most people would never refer to a solicitor from Brown and Coulson by their full name, only by their last and always with a proper prefix. The idea that this young man would not only mention a solicitor by his full name, but do so dismissively was shocking.  _ The gall!  _

“Might I ask the reason for you visit?” She sniffed. 

Aren had picked up on the secretary’s indignation at their attitude.  _ Honestly, anyone could pick up on it. _ They used her fury to further fuel their act.

“It’s a private matter.” Was Aren’s short reply. 

It only served to make Beatrice angrier. That he would walk into such a prestigious law firm went it was obvious he didn’t belong here had drawn her ire. That this, this  _ country upstart _ would act so dismissive, as if everyone in this office was beneath him, only served to further it.

“Very well,” she said. She plastered a false smile on her face. “Might I have your name, sir?”

Her question gave Aren pause. For a moment, their smirk faltered but quickly reappeared.

“Aren Grimstone,” they answered coolly. The words felt unnatural on their lips. The idea of introducing themselves as Aren Grimstone, rather than Aren Kaldwell, was a foreign one.

Beatrice froze. “Grimstone?” Had she heard him correctly?

“Aye.” Aren tilted their head and adjusted their glasses. “Is there a problem?”

“No, not at all, sir,” Beatrice replied quickly. Some part of her wanted to doubt the man in front of her. He wasn’t dressed the way Victor Grimstone, or any other Grimstone she had encountered over the years during her tenure as a secretary for Brown and Coulson did, and his hair was black. But then he adjusted his glasses and the blood red irises that were unique to the Grimstone bloodline stared back at her.  _ I can’t afford to risk that he isn’t.  _ A cold sweat broke out across the back of her neck. “I’ll contact Mr. Travers, right away, sir, and let him know you’ve arrived. Just give me one moment.”

Aren tipped their head. “Of course.” As she worked to contact Travers, they let their mind wander. They were slightly unnerved by how quickly they had managed to slide into their role.  _ Kath would say it’s like riding a bike. _ They took a small, grim satisfaction act the secretary’s panicked thoughts before quickly sobering. Her hostility, while frustrating, wasn’t entirely unwarranted.  _ I’m going to need to make some amends after this.  _ After all, nothing good would come from having Brown and Coulson as an enemy. 

“Mr. Travers will be out momentarily, sir,” Beatrice said after several moments, drawing Aren from their musings. She hoped that Mr. Travers wouldn’t ask how long the young man had been waiting for when he arrived.

Aren tipped their head in acknowledgement. “Very well.” They stepped away from her desk and moved to sit in one of the overly plush leather seats.  _ This is a lot more comfortable than I thought it was going to be _ . Aren reached for a random magazine, absently thumbing through the worn pages to see if any of the articles would catch their interest. They didn’t get very far into the magazine before they spotted a bespectacled man approaching out of the corner of their eye.

_ Show time. _

-

Rupert Travers wasn’t having a good day. Beatrice’s call had come in the middle of him doing research as he tried to better understand the person he would be meeting with. While his predecessor had kept detailed notes on Fredrick Grimstone, there was very little on file about his child. He doubted his past interactions with Victor would provide him with any relevant information about Aren’s personality and quirks, especially if yesterday’s phone call was anything to go by. He felt woefully unprepared.  _ I hate being unprepared when it comes to dealing with clients. _

His eyes swept over those in the waiting room. There wasn’t a trace of white hair anywhere. He frowned. 

“Where is Mister Grimstone, Beatrice?” he asked quietly.

Beatrice carefully pointed to the young man whose focus appeared to be solely on a copy of  _ Time _ . The man’s black hair gave Travers half a moment of pause. It was only when he reached up to readjust his glasses did Travers see the crimson red eyes that were considered to be a trademark of the Grimstone family.

“Ah, I see now.” He gave a curt nod to the secretary. “Thank you, Beatrice.”

Even though Aren’s eyes seemed focused on the page in front of them, they were aware of Travers’s arrival. They could sense his nervousness and had to pull back to keep it from affecting them.  _ I’m nervous enough as it is; don’t need to go adding to it.  _ They kept their eyes on the page as Travers approached.

Rupert approached the young man. He cleared his throat. “Mister Grimstone?” he asked politely.

Aren looked up, feigning surprise. “Aye, that would be me,” they confirmed. They stood up, dusting off their black slacks. 

Rupert held his hand out. “Rupert Travers, sir,” he introduced, shaking Aren’s hand. He was slightly taken aback by the strength they displayed as they returned the handshake. “We spoke on the phone.”

“Indeed, we did. It’s nice to be able to put a face to the voice.” 

Rupert coughed. “Yes, well, it certainly is good that you were able to come in on such short notice. I trust you didn’t have to wait long?”  _ Heaven forbid if he did.  _ Victor Grimstone had been a man who didn’t enjoy being kept waiting. If made to wait, he made his displeasure known and whoever was working him with that day would end up with a wicked headache. No one in the offices knew what caused them, save that they always arrived when Victor was displeased.

Aren laughed. “No, not at all.” They eyed the secretary who had gone white at Travers’s question. “I only arrived several moments ago.”

Rupert was careful not the let the relief show on his face as it swept through him. “Ah, excellent.” He motioned for Aren to follow him. “Shall we go to my office and speak further?”

“Of course.”

-

Aren settled into the firm chair across from Travers’s desk. They kept their face expressionless as they surveyed his office. His law degree, legal license, and several commendations were mounted on the wall behind his desk. They were in position to be on prominent display to anyone who walked in.  _ Thinks quite a bit of himself, doesn’t he?  _ On Travers’s desk sat his nameplate and an expensive-looking pen holder. Several files lay strew across his desk. They could just make out their father’s name on the edge of one of those briefs.  _ Looks like I might’ve cut into his study time. Good.  _ It put them on an equal playing field: he was just as unprepared to deal with them as they were with him. 

Rupert hurried to his desk. He quickly gathered up his predecessor’s notes on Fredrick Grimstone and set them aside, working hard to keep his flustered demeanor from showing. While the dossier on Fredrick Grimstone contained nothing incriminating or offending, few clients would be pleased to see an attorney from Brown and Coulson’s rooting for information on a family member.  _ Victor Grimstone had certainly been one of those clients _ . Rupert had seen several of his fellows dismissed from the firm during his tenure at Victor’s request, a request the firm was only more than happy to fulfil given how much they valued discretion.  _ And Victor’s business. _

Aren’s expression was still neutral by the time Travers finally sat down. They could pick out his frustration at being almost completely in the dark when it came to them. To their surprise, they could also make out a hint of fear.  _ Looks like Victor had a reputation here.  _ If they were being honest, that didn’t surprise them. Victor had always been a dark, intimidating figure to Aren when they were a child. If he had frightened the daylights out of a child, they could scarcely imagine how he had appeared to his peers.  _ Perhaps I can get some leverage on that, make them see I’m not the monster that Victor was.  _

Rupert cleared his throat. “Mister Grimstone,” he started. “On behalf of Brown and Coulson’s, I would once again like to our sincerest condolences for your loss.”

Aren’s lips twitched into a small, but pained smile. “Thank you, Mr. Travers. Though Victor and I hadn’t spoken for some time, he was still family. The loss of him is a great one.”  _ Liar. _ Aren’s final interaction with Victor had soured any warmth or fond memories they may have held towards him. Were Aren anyone else, they would have spit upon Victor’s grave and called his death a good thing. Yet, tradition kept their hands clenched into fists and made lies spill from their lips instead.  _ No matter the ills one may have brought us in life, we are to never dishonor them upon their death.  _ History had taught House Grimstone to respect the dead. Fredrick Grimstone had made sure his child never forgot that lesson. 

Rupert nodded along to Aren’s words. If he hadn’t spoken to the young man the night before, or had had interactions with Victor Grimstone in the past, he would have believed him to be sincere. But Victor Grimstone had commanded a respect instilled by fear. Few people had truly liked him. Even fewer would miss him.  _ That appears to include his nephew. _

“Right, then.” Rupert adjust his tie. “Shall we move on to the matter that required your presence, sir?”

Aren gave him a curt nod. They had no desire to be at Brown and Coulson’s any longer than necessary. After last night’s phone call, all they wanted was a stiff drink and an extended session with a heavy bag.

Rupert reached into one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out a thick stack of documents. At letter sat innocuously at the top of the stack. It was the Last Will and Testament of Lord Victor Grimstone. Rupert reached for the letter first, making eye contact with Aren as he did so. Their eyes locked for half a moment before he moved to break the seal.

The soft noise the wax seal made as it was broken felt almost anticlimactic. Still, Aren let out a breath they hadn’t known they had been holding. A giddy relief started to come over them before they tamped it down. Nothing had been read yet.  _ Only a fool celebrates before the cork is shot off. _

“This is Lord Victor’s last will and testament, Mister Grimstone,” he informed. “It was last revised a month before Lord Victor passed and goes as follows:  _ I, Victor Grimstone, being of sound mind and body, do declare the following: by my right as the Head of House Grimstone, I hereby name Aren Kaldwell, the d-daughter,”  _ Rupert stumbled over the word, realizing for the first time that the young man in front of him wasn’t a man at all. His gaff was met by Aren’s raised eyebrow. He quickly regained himself, intent on saving face as if nothing had happened. “ _ I hereby name Aren Kaldwell, daughter of my brother, to be my heir with all the rights afforded by the position. Upon my passing, the title of Head of House Grimstone is to be conferred to her as well. As my heir, I hereby bequeath to her all the holdings House Grimstone has gathered during my tenure as Head, along with Grimstone Manor and all the secrets it holds. This inheritance is not to be without condition, however. Should she wish to claim all that is rightfully hers, she must stay in Grimstone Manor, alone, where she shall remain locked inside from dusk until dawn. _ ”

Aren’s face was marred by a deep frown by the time Travers finished reading. Their thoughts whirled. They could scarcely believe what they had heard. They took a breath and found their voice.

“Would you mind if I take a look at that, Mr. Travers?” they asked. “Give you some time to gather the other relevant files in that awful stack.”

“O-of course, Mis—”

“Mister’s still fine,” Aren corrected absently. 

“Of course, Mister Grimstone,” he replied quickly. He handed the document over to them, passing along another letter as he did so. “There is a second part to it, but Lord Victor was adamant that it only be open by you in private.”

Aren merely hummed their acknowledgement. Their eyes roamed the Will before them. It was just as Travers read: Victor had indeed named them his heir.  _ But why? _ Surely Victor and his wife Annalise had managed to have children in the years since Fredrick’s flight. Why name the child of an estranged and hated brother if there were already children in the wings?

They looked up, brow furrowed both by thoughts and questions. Travers was looking at them expectantly. Obviously, they had missed something during their scan of Victor’s Will.

“My apologies, Mr. Travers,” they said. “I was caught up in the moment. Could I ask you to repeat whatever it was that you said?”

Rupert couldn’t find it in himself to be angry at the request. He had dropped quite the bombshell on the young individual before him, after all. 

“I asked if you were willing to accept the terms laid out before you, as dictated by Lord Victor’s will.”

“I…” Aren was at a loss for words. What could they say? There were too many unknowns. Too many whys. They needed more information before deciding anything. “Must I give you my answer now?”

“Oh, heaven’s no!” In a situation like this, it would have been poor form for any solicitor to expect an immediate answer. “However, I do require a tentative answer there are certain preparations that must be made in advance if you wish to take up your inheritance.”

_ My inheritance.  _ Aren had long since accepted that the only inheritance would receive was what their father had prepared before his death. It hadn’t been much. A five-thousand pound sum and various items that once belonged to Fredrick and Elizabeth were all Aren had been given. Despite the meagre offering, Aren accepted it without complaint nonetheless. They cared little for the money, instead caring more for the knickknacks. A worn scrapbook, a locket, and several books were treasured by Aren as the few physical reminders they had left of their parents. 

“When do you need my answer by?” They asked after several moments.

“No later than Friday, I’m afraid.”

Aren nodded. “You’ll have certain answer by then. For now…” they trailed off. “I suppose begin preparations for now, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Rupert tipped his head in acknowledgement.  _ It’s only fair.  _ “I shall await your call, Mister…” He paused for half of a moment. “Lord Grimstone.”

Aren stomach flipped uncomfortably. “Please, Mister Grimstone will suffice for now.”  _ Or for forever.  _ As it stood right now, they still weren’t quite sure how they felt about being called Mister Grimstone. Hearing Travers refer to them as Lord left them with a rather nasty feeling in their gut.

Aren stood, collecting the various papers that Travers had presented them and carefully arranged them into the folders before them. They swiftly stuffed the folders underneath their arm, making sure to have a hand free. They shook Travers’s hand firmly.

“Thank you for everything you’ve provided today, Mr. Travers,” they said. “House Grimstone is proud to have long held a relationship with Brown and Coulson, and looks forward to continuing that relationship.” Even if they hadn’t formally accepted their position as Head, there were still a certain propriety to be met. 

“And on behalf of Brown and Coulson, I say the same,” Rupert responded automatically. His earlier doubts had been quashed.  _ She’s every bit a Grimstone. _ Aren Grimstone carried herself in a way that Victor never had. Though he’d only encountered Fredrick Grimstone in passing a handful of times, she reminded Rupert of him. She had only been in the office for an hour at most, and already she had his respect.

Aren moved to leave but paused as they reached the doorway. They didn’t know whether to fight back a smile or a wince at the emotions and thoughts rolling from Travers. A smile wanted to rise at the knowledge that they had earned a real respect from him when Victor hadn’t, but the constant stream of  _ she  _ and  _ her  _ stomped it down.  _ To correct him or not?  _ Indecision gnawed at them for several moments. On the one hand, there would be no guarantee that they would have any further dealings with Brown and Coulson. On the other, they weren’t a  _ she  _ or a  _ he _ ; they were a  _ they. I am a Grimstone. We do not hide.  _

“They, Mr. Travers,” Aren said finally, catching his attention. 

“Excuse me?” Rupert was confused by the seemingly random statement. 

“Victor took no time to know me or the changes that came about over the years,” they said coolly. “It’s not she, it’s  _ they _ . Call me Mister, or Lord should things progress, if you must, but it is  _ they _ .”

Rupert was taken aback. “I-I…of course, Mister Grimstone. I shall inform the senior partners.” It was odd, but not the most unusual piece of information ever shared within the walls of Brown and Coulsons. He doubted any of them would blink an eye at it. 

“See to it that you do, and have a pleasant day.” Aren made their exit, leaving Travers to his thoughts in private. They shut the door behind them with a firm click that would have sent a lesser man flinching at the noise. 

-

Rupert leaned back in his chair and let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. The meeting had gone in the complete opposite direction he had expected it to. Originally, he’d envisioned a young man like Victor walking into Brown and Coulson, an air that demanded compliance around him. And so, with that image in mind, he did his duty and made the phone call, expecting his vision to be on the other end. What he received instead was an angry individual who shot that picture to pieces.  _ Did Victor know just who it was he was making his heir? _ Or did he, like Rupert, have an assumed picture in his mind when he made his decision. 

Rupert couldn’t help but feel uneasy. It was obvious to him that Aren held little love for Victor. Their eyes had darkened with rage at the mention of his name and filled with distrust upon the revelation that Victor had named them his heir. He couldn’t blame their distrust. His time as Victor’s main solicitor had taught him that Victor was a planner. He crafted elaborate and lengthy schemes that left those involved, save for himself, worse for wear. The will was obviously just a signal for the beginning of another one of Victor’s games. What its end would be, however, Rupert couldn’t begin to fathom. He’d learned early on that questioning Victor Grimstone’s plans was an excellent way for a quick dismissal from the firm at best, and a short trip to the grave at worst. 

_ I may just be making a mountain out of a molehill.  _ At least, Rupert hoped he was. It would be a shame to lose Aren Grimstone, after all.

-

Aren stopped by Beatrice’s desk.  _ Have to make public amends, after all.  _ Brown and Coulson had eyes everywhere. Undoubtedly, the exchange from earlier had reached the ears of the senior partners already. The last thing Aren needed to deal with was a bitter ex-employee from the firm, even if she was just a secretary. A public brushing off of her conduct would make it clear Aren held no ill will towards her and, hopefully, spare her from the senior partners’ wrath.

They cleared their throat. “Miss Abernathy?”

Beatrice jumped. To her horror, the young man,  _ Mister Grimstone, _ she reminded herself, stood before her. 

“Mister Grimstone, my apologies, sir,” she stammered out. “I didn’t see you standing—”

Aren cut her off with a wave of their hand. “It’s fine,” they assured her. “I’m not surprised, given how engrossed you were with your work.” They fought back a wince at the noise that she made.  _ Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say?  _ “The firm must keep you busy, after all.”

“I—yes, it does indeed, sir.” Beatrice was beyond flustered. “Is there anything I can help you with? Do you require Mr. Travers once again or…?”

Aren flashed her a small smile, hoping it would put her at ease. “No, not at all. I just came to ask that you put a reminder down for Mr. Travers that I will be calling him this Friday.”

Beatrice’s fingers were a blur across her keyboard as she input the request.  _ One reminder for Mr. Travers, at behest of Mister Grimstone.  _

“The reminder has been placed,” she said. “I’ll make certain that Mr. Travers receives it.” 

Aren tipped their head. “Thank you very much, Miss Abernathy.” They moved to leave.

Beatrice cleared her throat, catching Aren’s attention. Aren glanced over their shoulder.

“Yes?” They asked, curiosity lacing their voice. It was an act, not that Beatrice knew that.

“I just wanted to apologise for my conduct earlier, sir. Had I known that you were—”

Aren gave a warm chuckle that broke the stoic silence that seemed to pervade the lobby of the office. “Please, don’t fret over it, Miss Abernathy.” She looked ready to protest. “Your reaction wasn’t entire unwarranted; you had no idea who you were looking for, after all. Part of the blame does lay with me, to be honest. I don’t exactly look like my uncle, do I?”

_ No, you certainly don’t.  _ Not that she would admit it out loud. Instead, she said, “I suppose not, sir.” Privately, Beatrice was relieved. He was making light of her earlier judgement of him. Hopefully that would be enough to dissuade the senior partners from taking any serious action against her.

“See, nothing to worry about.” A warm smile came up on display. “If it is cause for concern, I can assure the senior partners that it was just a minor misunderstanding between us.”

Beatrice couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had she acted that way towards Victor Grimstone, her desk would already have been empty and a replacement sitting at her desk by the time he left Rupert’s office. Now, instead of scathing rebuke, Victor’s nephew was  _ offering  _ to shoulder the burden and speak on her behalf to the senior partners.  _ This…I have no idea what to make of this. _

“I-I don’t think that will be necessary, Mister Grimstone, but thank you,” she said earnestly.

Aren gave a small shrug. “As you wish.” A pause. “Really, though, you can inform the senior partners to contact me if it becomes an issue. Have a pleasant day.”

And with that, Aren reshuffled the folders under their arm and made their way out of the office. Beatrice sat behind the front desk, stunned. She didn’t hear Rupert come up behind her.

“Not what any of us expected, are they?” he asked, hands shoved in his pockets as he looked at the door Aren had just left through.

Beatrice startled. She quickly regained her composure, glancing at her colleague.

“Not at all.”

-

Aren all but collapsed on themselves as soon as the door to their car was shut.  _ By the gods, that was exhausting.  _ Even though the meeting had taken a little over an hour, they felt like they were just coming off a caffeine-free 72 hour call. Their mind was a whirl. Of all the things they had expected, being named Victor’s heir hadn’t been one of them.

_ I hate being caught off guard.  _ With Victor dead, they had no way of knowing just what his game was. Sure, they could have poked and prodded at Travers, but they doubted they would get much from him. Grimstones were enigmatic figures. They were the kind of people who held information close and guarded it jealously.  _ Secrecy might as well have been the family motto.  _ From what they could remember, Victor was the kind of man who reveled in the Game.  _ He liked being the one who held all the cards.  _

Aren let out a frustrated breath. There were still so many unanswered questions. Victor’s private letter burned a hole in their blazer pocket. A part of them wanted nothing more than to burn it as soon as they got home. Another part just wanted to see exactly what secrets it held.

_ Enough.  _ This wasn’t a decision to be made in the cramped confines of a car. It was one to be made after several glasses of scotch and a hot shower.

Aren shifted gears and pulled out into the street. They made their way to the traffic circle, where they slipped away into the evening traffic.

-

Katherine entered the flat, tossing her keys on to the kitchen counter as she did so. She was tired. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and had spent much of the day worrying about Aren. Aside from a single text letting her know that they had made it to London in one piece, it had been radio silence on their end. Even though she had been given the day off, she still went off to work shortly after Aren left in an attempt to occupy her mind and lessen her stress. She hadn’t been very successful. The head nurse, Tessa Addison, had noticed both the shadows under Katherine’s eyes and Aren’s absence and promptly ordered her home. Katherine didn’t even bother to argue, knowing better than to protest orders from the likes of Tessa Addison. 

_ I hope everything went okay.  _ Aren had been on the verge of becoming a nervous wreck before they left. Katherine’s last minute pep talk managed to draw a smile to their lips, but she wouldn’t be too surprised if she came home to the muffled sounds of Aren pounding away at the heavy bag.

“Hey.” Aren’s hoarse tone snapped her out of her musings. 

“Aren!” Katherine was taken aback by the sight of her lover on the couch. They sat in a pair of jeans and a worn jumper that Katherine was sure was hers. Their hair hung limply over their eyes, damp from a shower. A half empty bottle of scotch stood open on the coffee table.  _ Oh boy. _

“Did…did you drink all of that by yourself?” 

Aren noticed Katherine eyeing the bottle of scotch. “I needed to take my edge off.” They shrugged. “My edge is still not off.”

_ Of course not.  _ She sighed and moved to fill a glass of water, grabbing a bottle of painkillers as she did so. Aren had a high tolerance for alcohol. Just because they could hold a coherent, steady conversation while drinking someone under a table didn’t mean that they were immune to the resulting hangover. Katherine knew from her years with Aren that if they didn’t take preventative measures before the hangover, Aren would be nothing more than a groaning, vomiting pile of flesh in the morning.

Katherine sat next to them. She held two pills and the glass of water, trying not to wrinkle her nose. Aren smelled heavily of scotch. Obviously, they had been drinking for a while. 

Aren took the offered items without protest. A quick gulp followed by them placing the glass back down on the coffee table signaled that they were finished. A tense silence settled between them.

“How’d it go with the solicitor?” Katherine asked after several moments.

To Katherine’s dismay, Aren grabbed the bottle of scotch and refilled the glass. 

“I take that to mean things didn’t go well.”

Aren said nothing. They took a sip, eyes straight ahead at the bookshelf. Katherine could see how their hand shook as they brought the glass to their lips.

“Aren…” Aren wasn’t a social drinker. Even though they could hold their alcohol, they preferred to be the sober one whenever she and they went out to the pub after work. The only time Aren drank this heavily was when they had been confronted an emotionally taxing event. Katherine could count on one hand the number of times they had been like this. The last time Aren had polished off a bottle of alcohol all by their lonesome in a brooding silence had been after learning Victor would deny their father his death rights.  _ Did Victor denigrate them one final time? _

Aren lowered their glass. Their head lolled against the back of the couch as they closed their eyes and took a breath. They exhaled.

“Victor made me his heir.”


	3. The Morning After

**** Aren awoke with a pathetic groan the next morning. Their mouth felt like a desert had taken up shop inside it. Their head pounded violently.  _ By the gods… _

The quiet creak of the bedroom door sent them burying their head back under the pillow.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Katherine greeted from behind them.

Aren groaned in response. “Mmph...how much did I have to drink?”

Katherine sat next to Aren. She ran her fingers through their hair, drawing a quiet rumble from them.

“You managed to polish off that bottle of scotch my parents got us.” In hindsight, the fact that Aren had been able to finish the whole thing had been an impressive act. It had been a gift from Katherine’s parents, mostly her father, when she and Aren announced their engagement. The elder Spencer had a fondness for stronger, smokier scotches. It was a fondness that neither his daughter nor her fiancée shared. But Aren, not wanting to anger the man who was going to becoming their father-in-law, had accepted the gift without complaint. 

“Ugh…”  _ Seven hells.  _ “Are we absolutely sure that what your father gave us was actually scotch and not industrial strength lab cleaner?”

“You know he likes a drink with strong flavour.”

Aren shot a her a bleary look of disbelief from underneath the pillow. “There are drinks with strong flavour and then there’s...whatever in the seven hells it was that I had last night.” 

Katherine laughed. “I’ll take your word for it Mister Kaldwell,” she teased. She felt somewhat guilty for drawing amusement from Aren’s misery.

“You’re enjoying this,” Aren complained. Their voice was muffled by the pillow.

She pressed a kiss to the side of their head. “Only a little.” More often than not, she would be the one fighting a major hangover while Aren remained frighteningly sober. And on more than one occasion, they had been more than a little smug at their own soberness.

Aren rolled their eyes, only to regret the motion moments later. They let out a quiet whimper.

“Fucking hells, I’m never drinking again.”

“Uh huh. You said the same thing last time you ended up like this, you know,” Katherine reminded them.

“You’re supposed to be on my side here…” It came out almost as a whine. But it didn’t. Aren Kaldwell did  _ not  _ whine.  _ Even if I am hungover… _

Katherine ran her fingers through their hair again. “I am,” she reassured. “You know I’m just teasing you.”

Aren made an affirmative noise. Of course they knew that. They were giving her a hard time, partially to combat Katherine’s teasing, and partially because their head felt like it was splitting open. 

“Why don’t you go get washed up?” Katherine suggested. “I’ll make breakfast and one of my proven hangover cures.”

Aren’s stomach lurched at the thought of food. The idea of one their lover’s hangover cures sent it rolling. They had a love-hate relationship with those horrific concoctions. They were extremely effective at curing what ailed someone, but tasted terribly foul. They had no idea what went into them, and in all honesty, they didn’t want to know.  

Katherine could sense Aren’s apprehension. “Honestly, Aren, they aren’t that bad,” she chided. “Better that than the hangover, yeah?”

They made a noise that was half-agreement, half-disagreement. The hangover remedy absolutely was  _ that bad _ . But suffering a hangover was worse. They needed to be clear-headed and relatively sober for the meeting they had scheduled for later today, assuming Jack had gathered all the relevant information.  _ Lesser of the two evils it is. _

“What’s it going to be, Mister Kaldwell?” Katherine asked. Her eyebrow was raised in question, not that Aren could see it with their face still planted firmly into the pillow. 

Aren moved their face from the pillow. “I hate you,” they grumbled.

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” They sighed. “I’ll take it. Just, give me a bit to get cleaned up. I feel absolutely disgusting.”

Katherine gently thumped them on the shoulder. “G’wan,” she ordered. “You reek of scotch and morning breath.”

Aren pushed themselves up, fighting against the nausea that wanted to send them faceplanting back into bed. They took several breaths to steady themselves. 

“You certainly know how to make a person feel good about themselves,” they wheezed out.

Katherine shot them a cheeky smile as she left the room for the kitchen. “I do know. It’s why you love me.”

Aren smiled back. “Aye, among other things.”

“Well, do try to  _ not _ to drown in the shower,” she called out from over her shoulder. 

Aren chuckled, ignoring the throbbing pain that lanced through them as they did so. “Only if you try your best not to burn down the flat,” they replied. Slowly but surely, they made their way to the bathroom. 

-

The smell of black coffee and dry toast filled Aren’s nostrils when they entered the tiny kitchenette. Katherine was humming away as she grilled another piece of bread on the skillet. Sitting on the counter bar was a plate with several slices of grilled toast. A cup of coffee sat to its right. On its left was the dreaded hangover cure. Aren approached the bar apprehensively.

Most mornings, Aren preferred a cup of tea and a more substantial meal. But in their current state, they happily welcomed the sight of simple toast and plain black coffee. They knew that even with Katherine’s hangover remedy, fancier offerings wouldn’t stay down long. 

“You know, we do have a toaster for that,” Aren remarked dryly.

Katherine glanced over her shoulder. “This is faster,” she said with a shrug. “And with our track record, it’s less likely to result in us having to buy a new toaster, Mister ‘ _ I can cook a five course meal but still set the toaster on fire _ .’”

Aren could feel their ears turn pink.  _ It only happened once!  _ They took a large bite out of a piece of toast rather than respond. They moved to chase it down with a swig of coffee, only to be stopped by Katherine’s scolding tone.

“Drink the cure before you go throwing back the coffee, Aren.”

Were Aren anyone else, they most likely would have pouted. As it stood, they merely gave a small frown. They eyed the glass next to the coffee with a healthy amount of trepidation. A dark green liquid stared back them ominously.  _ Well at least it’s not chunky this time around.  _ Small blessings led to small miracles. They sighed.  _ Can’t make me feel any worse than I already am, I guess. _

In one fluid motion, Aren grabbed the glass and tossed back its contents. Several harsh gulps saw the contents disappear within seconds. It proved to be a mistake. Aren’s eyes burned. It was like they had just taken in several thumbs of ginger mixed with chili sauce, some unidentifiable green vegetable, and for some odd reason, a bag of oranges on top of it all. It was truly a horrific combination. They coughed harshly, trying hard not to gag. The noise that escaped their throat was the cross between a dying pig and a set of new car tyres.

Katherine turned to eye her lover. She winced at the noise they made.  _ Maybe three thumbs of ginger was too much. _ She absently turned off the stove as Aren continued to splutter.

It was several painful coughs later before Aren felt like they could breath again. They looked up at Katherine through watering eyes. They shakily gave her a thumbs up.

“T-thanks for the pick me up, love,” they squeaked out.

Katherine leaned over the bar, giving them a quick peck as she placed a glass of water in front of them. 

“You’re more than welcome.” She motioned to the water. “Water should help. Then you can chase it down with the coffee.”

_ Thank the gods.  _ Aren took a few tentative sips, relishing the relief that swept through them. 

Katherine perched herself against the bar. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how bad was this latest dose?”

Aren moved to drink the coffee. A thoughtful looked crossed their face. In terms of pain, this had probably been the worst hangover cure Katherine had ever prepared.  _ Almost wanted to stick with the hangover for a moment there.  _ But the taste hadn’t been terrible. Odd, but not terrible. It was doing a good job at removing the hangover and staying down.

“Probably a five,” they replied with a shrug. 

Katherine’s eyebrows rose. “ _ Really _ ?”  _ Are they serious?  _ “Aren, you were squealing like a set of worn brakes!”

Aren hummed around a mouthful of coffee. They were well past the point of denying that, knowing exactly just what they had sounded like. 

“Hurt like a bitch, but I honestly feel better.” They grimaced. “Maybe cut down on the ginger a bit next time around, yeah?”

Katherine laughed. “I can do that.” She reached behind herself and brought forth another plate of grilled toast. “Oh, before I forget, Jack called.”

Aren bit into another piece of toast. A loud crunch echoed through the small space. Much to their chagrin, crumbs sprayed all over the bar. They glanced up.

“Oh, good.” They brushed up the crumbs on to the plate in front of them. “What did she say?”

Katherine tilted her head to the side. “That she managed to get her hands on necessary paperwork and can definitely meet today.”

Aren’s raised eyebrows were the only indication of their surprise.  _ That was fast.  _ They hadn’t been completely sure that Jack would be able to get the information they requested in the time frame they had provided.  _ Should’ve known better than to doubt her. _ After all, Jack had a reputation for being a reliable information broker. Very little could remain hidden from her, much to the chagrin of those she was charged with investigating.

“Do I need to be worried?”

“Hm?” Katherine’s question snapped Aren from their musings. “‘M sorry. What?”

She gave them an exasperated look. “Do I need to be worried about whatever it is that Jack pulled up for you?” She knew that Aren received information from Jack from time to time. It was usually for mundane things, like a more detailed dossier on a particular intern that Aren had noted to be struggling. Such files were typically sent through an encrypted email or passed along during a grocery run. Rarely did it require a formal meeting. And when it did, it meant that Jack had uncovered something serious enough to turn over to the police following the briefing.

Aren shrugged. “Probably not.” Katherine looked unconvinced. “Honest, Kath. I just had her pulling up stuff like account information and transaction histories.”

“You what?”  _ Please tell me that was a joke.  _ “Aren!”

Aren frowned. “What?” They ran their previous statement through their head, trying to figure out what had upset Katherine so.

“You can’t just have someone go looking for information like that! It’s illegal!”  _ Honestly!  _ Katherine fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. 

Aren’s frown deepened. “What are you talking about? It’s my account information.” They paused. “Well, it will be, I suppose.”

Katherine was lost. She gave in to the urge and pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Explain, please,” she ordered firmly. “Because I don’t want to have to go to the plod and I don’t think the local jailhouse allows for conjugal visits.”

Aren took a deep sip of their coffee. Suddenly, they wished for a large glass of the industrial lab cleaner they’d polished off last night. They took a breath. 

“I received a lot of papers yesterday,” they started. “Most of it was stuff I knew my way around from memories, but a lot of it was new.”

“New?” Katherine frowned herself.  _ What do they mean?  _ Of course some of it had to be new. Aren hadn’t been involved with House Grimstone for nearly a decade, after all. The look of discomfort that cross their face clued her in that something was off. “Aren?”

“There were a bunch of new assets that I didn’t recognize. Payments from companies that I’ve never even  _ heard _ of.” Aren ran their fingers through their hair. “I asked Jack to look into it because I don’t know where the money came from. If it’s blood money, if it’s dirty money, I don’t want anything to do with it.”

_ Oh, Aren.  _ Katherine reached over to take their hand. Aren let out a rough breath.

“I know, I haven’t decided if I’m even going to accept the damn inheritance, but I don’t want to go in blind,” they said. “The Grimstone family, my family, has a reputation. It comes out that the Grimstone family wealth is covered in blood, and that reputation gets that much worse. I...I don’t want you affected by that.”

“That’s not your call to make, Aren.” Gone was the somewhat jovial air that had surrounded the two of them. In its place was a starkly sober atmosphere. Aren’s distant gaze and discomfort made Katherine understand just exactly why they had turned to the bottle last night. 

Aren gave Katherine a bitter smile. “You didn’t know my family like I did. Based off what I went through before I started drinking last night, Victor had no issue making deals of a dubious nature if the resulting payout increased the waning fortunes of House Grimstone.”

Katherine had no idea what to say to that. Having only met Victor Grimstone once in person, she certainly couldn’t refute Aren’s words. It hadn’t been a pleasant meeting. At the time, she only had a vague idea as to who Aren’s distant uncle was, but a sharp pain lancing through her mind quickly cleared the picture. She had quickly shut off her mind, just as Aren had taught her, but she never knew just Victor had gleaned from her. She never told them what had occurred.

An uneasy silence settled between the two of them. The Grimstone family was touchy topic for Aren. The reputation the family held meant that few people in town had kind things to say about them. On more than one occasion, Katherine had watched Aren silently endure a bevy of insults towards the enigmatic family launched by an ignorant townsperson. The only time she had seen them respond had been when a patron at Royal Hart’s had made a disparaging remark about their mother. The unfortunate man had been quickly laid about the floor by Aren, who had only mumbled a quick excuse before paying their tab and making a hasty exit. 

“You don’t have to accept, you know that, right?” Katherine questioned.

Aren’s smile turned sad. “I know,” they said. “But, at the end of the day, despite everything, I belong to House Grimstone. I’m the only one left.”  _ It’s my responsibility. _

Katherine sighed. “I know…”  _ Wouldn’t being a Spencer be enough, though?  _ She felt immediately guilty as soon as the thought crossed her mind. 

Aren did their best to not flinch as Katherine’s thoughts echoed loud and clear. Guilt filled them. They leaned forward and pressed their forehead to hers.

“Being a Spencer is more than enough for me, Kath,” they assured. “Honestly, I can’t wait to become a Spencer.” They pulled away slightly to look her in the eyes. “There are just some things that I can’t leave undone before then, though.”

Katherine moved around the counter to come stand behind Aren. She wrapped her arms around them. She placed her head on their shoulder. They absently reached up to run their fingers through her hair. 

“If you really don’t want me to do this, I won’t,” Aren said quietly. 

Katherine shook her head.  _ I won’t ask that of you.  _ How could she? Aren was right: they belonged to House Grimstone first. She had never held any illusions to the contrary. She understood early on in their relationship that she would have share them with the forces that had long shaped the Grimstone family. She never minded. At least, that’s what she had told herself. Now, confronted with Aren’s return to Grimstone Manor, even if only for a night, it filled her with a sense of dread. 

“Hey, none of that now,” Aren protested. “I’ll be okay, you know that.”

Katherine closed her eyes. Aren had a tendency to get thrown into unbelievable situations. They also had a knack for getting out of those situations and ending up on top. 

“Damn right I do,” Aren said aloud with a nod. 

Katherine could help it. She laughed. It was such an un-Aren like statement, but it was turned out to be just what she needed. And just like that, the serious air around the two of them melted away. 

A warm smile cracked across Aren’s face. They chuckled. They pulled Katherine close, letting her emotions wash over them. They closed their eyes. Nothing more needed to be said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment and/or a kudos. Come ask questions or say hi on tumblr @sandstonesunspear


	4. Decisions

**** Aren rushed up the stairs to Jack’s flat. They were extremely late. They hoped that she wouldn’t be too upset, given that 9 times out of 10, they usually showed up early.

They slid across the marble flooring and into the door.  _ Ow.  _ They raised their hand to knock but the door swung before they could. Jack’s unamused visage stared back at them. 

“You’re late,” she said blandly, stepping to the side to let them in.

“I know, I know.” They shrugged off their jacket and hung it up as Jack close the door behind them.

Jack leaned against the door, observing. Aren looked like death. She discretely wrinkled her nose.  _ And they smell like sex _ . She fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. While she admired that Katherine and Aren had a healthy sex life and relationship, there was still a certain propriety to be met.  _ Would it have been that hard to call ahead before the clothes went flying off? _

“You should’ve called ahead to let me know that you were going to be late because you decided to have a bit of a lie in with Katherine,” she scolded.

Aren felt their cheeks turn pink. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” they denied. 

Jack scoffed. “You smell like sex, Kaldwell.” Aren sputtered, their trademark aloof air nowhere to be seen. She eyed their damp hair. “Take it from a woman who’s been married for a while: if you have sex in the shower, make sure that you and your girl finish solo, otherwise it becomes very obvious what you two were getting up to.”

Aren’s face felt like it was fire.  _ This is almost as bad as getting walked in on by my aunt.  _ They weren’t ashamed of the fact that they had been found out. They just preferred privacy when it came to their sex life. 

Jack took pity on her friend. She clapped them on the shoulder, signaling the end her teasing. “Let’s get to business, shall we?”

Aren gave her a grateful look. “Aye, let’s.” They were more than happy to drop any discussion of their bedroom activities.

-

Two large mugs of tea sat on the coffee table. Steam rolled from the both of them. A bowl filled to the brim with sugar cubes stood between them. Aren went about fixing the tea. Two cubes and a splash of milk for Jack. A cube and a generous amount of milk for them. 

A large stack of files entered their field of vision. They looked up and grabbed them. They absently thumbed through a few of them. They were torn between dismay and awe at the amount of information Jack had managed to uncover over the past 24 hours. 

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or alarmed by all of this,” Aren admitted.

Jack took a sip from her mug.  _ Perfect, as always.  _ “How about both?” She leaned back in her chair.

“Sounds good to me.” Aren also leaned back, but left the tea untouched.  _ Give it some time to cool.  _ “Cliff notes version first, then a detailed run, if time permits?”

Jack shrugged. “Works for me. We’ve plenty of time anyhow. Miranda took Ori out to London for the day.”

“Oh.” Aren felt guilty. “I didn’t mean to keep you.”

Jack waved them off. “You haven’t. It’s a ‘Mummy ‘Randa and Ori’ day.” She couldn’t stop the fond smile from crossing her face. Her daughter had made for such a cute image earlier that morning. Oriana had tried to make herself breakfast, but being four-years-old and shorter than the kitchen counters, she ended up making quite the mess instead. Jack and Miranda had awoken to the sound of several loud clangs and shot out towards to kitchen. They were greeted by the sight of a grinning Oriana on top of the counter, an overturned chair, and cereal all over the place. Despite the mess, neither woman could find it in themselves to be too upset at the girl who was fully dressed and telling Miranda that she was, “Ready to go.”

Aren smiled at the image forming in Jack’s mind.  _ That is pretty cute.  _ They and Katherine had spent time with Jack and her family on more than one occasion. The first time they and Katherine had come over for dinner, all four adults had been worried about Oriana’s reaction. It turned out, they needn’t have. Upon meeting Katherine, she had immediately declared her to be her aunt. She almost ended up calling Aren her uncle, but tossed the term after they had gently explained how they saw themselves. The then-toddler took it in stride, deeming Aren to be her ‘Tuncle,’ instead.

“I’d wondered why there was cereal scattered all over your kitchen,” Aren mentioned casually.

Jack sighed. “Just you wait. You and Katherine’ll be dealing with the same kinds of things soon enough,” she said, pointing to them.

Aren didn’t bother to deny the statement. They merely offered a shrug instead. They knew that Katherine wanted children. They did as well. But they still had a lot to sort through before that ever happened. At least Katherine’s parents had been kind enough to leave the topic of grandchildren mostly untouched. Aren’s aunt Sophia had taken one look at Katherine before informing Aren that she would very much like to have grand-nephlings before she was old enough to be called an old spinster.

“I think the topic of children is on hold until all of this,” They motioned to the large pile of folders on the table. “Is resolved.”

“Fair enough,” Jack conceded. She grabbed one of the files. “Let’s begin.”

-

“How much do you know about the Grimstone family holdings?” Jack asked.

Aren shrugged. “About the new stuff, just the bare minimum,” they admitted. “Know a bit more about the older holdings, but it’s probably ten years out of date.”

Jack nodded. She passed along another folder, red this time. Aren took it, a look of apprehension on their face. 

“Think it would be safe to say that ten years ago, the financial situation of House Grimstone wasn’t great?” she asked them.

Aren frowned. “Of course it wasn’t.” They weren’t blind. The waning fortunes of House Grimstone were a situation that many other noble houses around Europe faced. “I take it to mean that that’s changed considerably then?” From what they had read last night, it had.

“Oh, yes. Based off the transaction histories that I managed to pull up, Victor started branching out the family finances roughly ten years ago,” Jack informed them. “Small things at first, a vineyard in France here, a local business outside of town there, things like that.”

“I understood that much.”

“About five years ago is when the playing field changed. Check page five.”

Aren flipped to the relevant page. They frowned.  _ That couldn’t be right.  _ They looked up at Jack, confusion evident.

“I know, that was my reaction when I started to see those numbers,” she said. There was no humour in her voice. “Five million pounds to Orthrus.” 

-

The Orthrus Foundation, better known to many as simply Orthrus, was a industrial group with a dark reputation. They had come up suddenly on the economic scene, and with them, a great deal of violence and crime followed. For four years they had waged a war of corporate terror, participating in predatory company buyouts, and perpetuating a culture of corruption and incompetence unlike anything the United Kingdom had seen since Thatcher. At the same time, accusations that Orthrus was killing off whistleblowers and rivals dogged the company left and right. Nothing had ever been made of those allegations until last year, when an anonymous dossier found its way into the encrypted emails of information brokers all over the UK. Jack had been one of them. Shortly thereafter, a flood of information made its way across the networks until Orthrus’s actions could no longer be denied. In all, some three hundred Orthrus employees were indicted while the Foundation collapsed.

-

Aren swallowed nervously. “Does that mean…?” 

Jack nodded grimly. “One of the payments coincides with the disappearance an Orthrus analyst. May Williams.” A sardonic smile flitted across her lips for half a moment. “I looked into her file. She was dabbling on the brokerage world and came across information regarding Victor’s business practices.”

“Was she blackmailing him?”

Jack shook her head. “She never got the chance to.”

“Then why?”  _ Why make her disappear?  _ The word of a low-ranking analyst against the word of a rich white man held almost no weight.

“My best guess, Victor found out someone was snooping around. Williams was new to the brokerage world and made decisions that tossed her head first into the Game.”

_ And he killed her for it.  _ For most, the Game was a separate world in and of itself. It theory, it was a way for the common man to participate on the world stage and give him a voice that would otherwise be denied to him. In practice, the common man was rarely found. In his place were companies, governments, old houses, wealthy families, and those with everything to lose. The Game wasn’t for the faint of heart. More often than not, it was played to the death. Aren had never been particularly fond of the Grand Game themselves. They hated the politicking and double dealing that went on. But, having been raised to play it and being more than competent in its steps, they knew better than to turn their back on it completely.  _ Only a fool turns their nose up at the Game.  _

“Just what exactly were those practices?”

“Intimidation, the occasional ‘accident’ of a business partner turned rival, selling to both sides of the aisle. Small stuff, really.” The fact that Jack considered those offense to be  _ small  _ served as a testament to the kinds of things she saw as an information broker. “Not enough to truly tank a man like Victor, but enough that it might lower his status in the business world for a bit, had it come to light.”

Aren was unimpressed. “Wonderful. He pays a company to get rid of an analyst and five years later, leaves me to deal with the mess.”

“To be fair, it was five years ago. Things were different.”

“Time doesn’t change the fact that I could still be on the hook for this if it comes to light,” Aren said bitterly.

“You won’t, actually,” Jack said. “There were countless transactions and investments made to Orthrus over a five year period, sure, but he wasn’t the only one. As soon as Orthrus folded, people pulled their funds and jumped ship. Victor did business with Orthrus from time to time, but he once he got what he needed from them, he buried his ties to them.” If Aren didn’t know better, they would say the Jack’s expression was one of grudging respect. “Buried them pretty well, to be honest.”

“Oh?”

Jack sighed. “Look, Victor was well known to the brokerage community. He bought  _ a lot  _ from us. But there isn’t a lot out there on him, nothing that’s easily accessible, anyhow.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “A lot of this information, I had to dig deep for.”

“You didn’t ask your contacts?”

“What contacts?” Jack ran her fingers through her hair. “Aren, no one wants to touch any sort of information regarding Victor. Man had a reputation as someone you didn’t want to cross. I reached out after you called yesterday but as soon as I even  _ hinted  _ that I was looking for information tied to Victor, people, veteran brokers even, they clammed up tighter than a blushing virgin.”

Crass as Jack’s statement was, it illustrated the effect that Victor’s reputation could produce. Information brokers weren’t easy people to intimidate. They made their living buying, selling, and trading secrets that often had someone willing to kill to keep. They were skilled players of the Game, and played just as viciously as some governments. 

“That said, it’s unlikely that you’ll suffer blowback from Victor’s actions, even if you do take up the mantle as Head of House Grimstone.”

“You think?” Aren had their doubts. Generations of superstition and rumour had soured relations between the town and House Grimstone. Of course, the Grimstone family effectively isolating themselves didn’t help matters. 

Jack shrugged. “Everyone knows that Victor was a royal prick.” That was putting it lightly. “Your dad was pretty well liked. He started to change how people viewed the Grimstone family, but then he disappeared from public eye and they forgot.”

“I never knew that.”

Jack was surprised. “Really?”

“Until we left the manor, I rarely went into town. Then once we left, it was hair dye, contacts and Kaldwell.” A bitter smile. “And ten years of listening to people denigrate my family.”

Jack had no idea what to say to that. She wasn’t going to deny the considerable hostility that Aren had faced. When it came down to it, Aren Kaldwell and Aren Grimstone were two fundamentally different people. Aren Kaldwell was a well-respected doctor. They were well-known in town and had a reputation that clashed with the Grimstone ideal. Aren Grimstone was unknown to just about everyone. They hadn’t been seen in a decade. No one would know what to expect. Assumptions would be made, not all of them good. 

“Things could be different,” Jack offered. “You could make it different.”

“Perhaps.” Aren exhaled. “I’ve got three days before I have to worry about that.”

Jack chuckled. “True enough.”

-

“So, were you able to figure out why Victor named me his heir and not one of his own children?” Aren asked.

“Sure did.”

Aren simply lifted their eyebrows in question. There were times when Jack’s tendency for cryptic silences and leaving one on the edge made for good comedic relief. This wasn’t one of those times. 

Another file found its way into Aren’s hands. “He didn’t have any kids.”

_ What?  _ “Are you sure?” It had been ten years. Surely Victor and Analise had managed to have at least  _ one  _ child in that time.

“Aye.” Jack took a bite out of a biscuit. “Not from a lack of trying on their parts, though.”

Aren flipped through the file. They whistled. That was an understatement. According to the file, Analise had been pregnant six times over the last decade. Unfortunately, the years had not been kind to her and her husband. Three of her pregnancies had ended in miscarriages, two had been stillbirths, and the last had claimed her life. 

“It says she managed to give birth to a daughter two years ago.” They looked up. “Is there any further information?” 

Jack gave them a sad smile. One more folder, black and thin this time. 

Aren took it. They opened it to reveal copies of two death certificates: one for Analise, the other for her and Victor’s daughter, Margery. They looked over the documents. Cause of death, Analise Grimstone: hypovolemic shock as a result of major postpartum hemorrhage.  _ Probably couldn’t locate the source of the bleed in time. _ They shook their head and kept reading. Cause of death, Margery Grimstone: microvesicular steatosis.  _ She died at the hospital.  _ They closed their eyes. 

Jack watched a flurry of emotions play across Aren’s face. She already knew the circumstances that had taken the lives of Analise and Margery Grimstone, having already read the files beforehand. She understood the kind of grief and terror brought about by complications of childbirth. She had nearly lost Miranda six years ago to a placental abruption. It resulted in the death of their son,  _ James,  _ and an emergency hysterectomy for Miranda. It had been one of the worst moments of Jack’s life. Losing James had been terrible enough.  _ If I’d lost both of them... _ She shook her head.  _ No _ . She wouldn’t think about that right now.

“Well,” Aren shut the file with a quiet flop. “That clears some things up.” They placed a hand over their face. They couldn’t help but feel sorry for Victor. Losing his wife and daughter must have been devastating. They could scarcely imagine losing Katherine. To lose her and then a child shortly thereafter...that was unthinkable.

Privately, some irrational part of them hoped that Victor had had a child waiting in the wings. Not so that they could pass along the responsibility of being Head, but because it would have meant that they weren’t the last Grimstone. To be the last of anything, especially a family, was quite lonely. Yes, they had Katherine. But they had wanted someone to remain, if only to make amends. Now, the only amends they would make would be to an empty house and the ghosts that wandered its halls. 

“Good,” Jack said. “I could probably find out more if you need me to. I would just need specifics and a heads up.”

“Noted,” Aren replied absently. They reached into their jacket for their wallet. Before they could pull it out, they were stopped by Jack’s hand on theirs. They gave her a confused look. 

“This is on the house.” Seeing Aren ready to protest, she cut them off with a shake of her head. “Look, yes, I had to go some lengths to get this, but I would do it again because if you’re going to be the Head of House Grimstone, you’ll need information.” She grinned at them. “If you insist on paying, consider me deferring it until a later date.”

Aren grinned back. “If you insist,” they said. 

“Oh, and before I forget, here, like you asked.” Jack pulled out case containing a SIG Sauer. She checked it over before moving to hand it to them. She paused for a moment. “You do know how to use this, yeah?”

Aren rolled their eyes. “I do go shooting at the club, Jack,” they said, exasperation colouring their tone. “I know my way around a handgun.”

“Good. Would be a hell of a time explaining how you shot yourself with a gun that technically doesn’t exist and all.”

Aren eyed Jack out of the corner of their eye as they opened the case. They took out the pistol to examine it. The size was different, but the weight was similar to the gun they had stored at the club.  _ Yes, this’ll do.  _ How much use it would be at the manor was anyone’s guess, but should anything happen, at least they would go down fighting. 

“Where did you get this?” They asked, curious.

Jack shrugged. “A contact in Germany was looking to unload a piece. Said I’d be happy to take it off his hands.”

A sliver of dread made its down Aren’s spine. “If, for some reason, I do fire this, it won’t ping anything with across the Channel, will it?”

Jack looked offended. “Do you really think I would give you a dirty piece?” She sounded almost hurt.

Aren just gave her a look. They knew that Jack would never  _ intentionally  _ give them a dirty gun, but still, they had to check.

“It’s clean, Kaldwell. Like I said, it technically doesn’t exist.” A thoughtful look. “Had to pay the German extra for that, but worth it in the end.”

Aren hummed. “I’m surprised you were even able to get this thing into the country.” Under UK gun laws, the size of the pistol meant that its possession was a crime. If they were caught with it, they would be looking at a hefty fine and possibly a considerable amount of jail time.

“Some boys in customs owed me a few favours.” Was Jack’s response. “So, do try not to get caught with it, because I will leave you to hang.”

“So noted.” Aren placed the gun back into the case. “Thank you, Jack.” 

“Don’t mention it.”  _ Literally. I don’t need it getting out that I supply weapons.  _ Because she didn’t. This was a one-time deal that she would disavow at a moment’s notice if things went south.

-

The door to the flat opening cut off any further conversation between the two of them. In rushed in was an energetic four year old and an exhausted but smiling Miranda on her heels.

“Tuncle Aren!” Oriana squealed. She rushed them, laughing loudly as they quickly picked her up.

“Hey, Firefly,” they greeted. The smile on their face was genuine. “You have fun in London?”

“Buy lots of books! See!” She turned in their arms and pointed to the large bag that Miranda was carrying. 

Aren laughed. “I do see.” They eyed Miranda. “Did you buy out the store, Lawson?”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Close enough.” She took a moment to greet her wife with a kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi’ya, love,” Jack murmured. “How about I go get Little Miss freshened up while you and Aren get caught up, yeah?”

“Sounds wonderful,” Miranda muttered back, relief evident in her voice. She loved her daughter, but she needed a moment to just sit down and  _ relax. _

Jack moved to take Oriana from Aren. “C’mon, Little Miss. You need a bath. You smell like smog,” she teased.

“‘M a princess, not smog, Mummy Jack!” Oriana protested.

Jack laughed. “Aye, but even princesses need baths.” She smiled at Oriana and took off to the bathroom, Oriana’s excited squeals filling the air.

-

Silence settled between Aren and Miranda. There was always an initial tension between the two of them whenever one of them entered the same space. Most chalked it up to some unspoken, antagonistic relationship between the two. In reality, they were both just awkward people. The fact that they both came from similar backgrounds and had once run in the same circles of society in their youth only added to it. 

“Jack told me about your uncle,” Miranda started. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

A sardonic smile cross Aren’s lips.  _ Hollow words spoken by people like us to try and numb the pain.  _ They felt no pain. 

“I’m not.” Their statement seemed to take Miranda by surprise. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, ‘Randa. Victor was to me as Henry is to you.”

Miranda grimaced at the mention of her father. She eyed the folders covering the table. Aren followed her line and sight and shrugged.

“I’m to manage an estate I’ve had no involvement with for the last ten years. I needed the cliff notes so that I don’t go in blind.”

Miranda understood that. “Was Jack of any help?”

“She plays the Game.” Was Aren’s simple response. 

Miranda needed no further explanation. Like Aren, she had been raised in the Game. She was intimately familiar with its steps. She had been brought into the world by Henry Lawson solely for the Game. And while she excelled at it, she hadn’t played in years, not since her violent falling out with her father. She accepted that Jack played, with the agreement that they wouldn’t involve their daughter until she was old enough. But that would only happen if Oriana wished it and understood what would be at risk.  _ The Game is a vicious thing. It is no place for a child. _

“She plays it well,” Miranda replied. 

“She had a good teacher.” Aren shifted uncomfortably. “Miranda, you should know that some of the information we went over seems to have upset Jack. I think it would be best if you two talked.”

Miranda tipped her head. “I will. Thank you for letting me know.”

“Not a problem.”

Aren gathered the files and stuffed them in their bag. The gun case sat at the bottom of their bag, hidden by the rest of the files. 

“Have a good evening, Miranda.”

-

Aren came home to see Katherine asleep on the couch. A book laid atop her chest. They smiled at the sight. They were closed behind themselves, careful not to make too much noise. They put their bag down and walked to the bedroom. They pulled back the blanket and sheets on Katherine’s side of the bed before heading back to the couch where Katherine was lying. They crouched slightly and gently picked her up. She stirred.

“Mhmm…Aren?” She mumbled sleepily. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.  _ Must’ve…been more tired than I thought… _

“Shh,” Aren soothed. “Go back to sleep, love. I’ve got you.” They felt bad. They spent the night before last tossing and turning after Travers’s phone call, which in turn had kept Katherine up. They doubted she had gotten much sleep last night either.

They carried her back to the bedroom where they carefully laid her down. They pulled the covers over her lover, making sure to not disturb her. Aren paused for a moment to make sure that she was still asleep before they pulled away. Katherine simply rolled over and murmured a few incomprehensible words. They nodded and quietly padded out to the kitchen.

-

Aren pulled their phone out. They dialed the number for Brown and Coulson’s, fully prepared to leave a message given the hour.

_ “Brown and Coulson of London, this is Beatrice speaking, how many I help you?”  _ Beatrice chirped.

“Ah, Beatrice, this is Aren Grimstone,” they greeted.

_ “Oh, Mister Grimstone, sir, how may I help you this evening?” _

Aren closed their eyes. “Could I trouble you to inform Mr. Travers that I accept?” They asked. “I know I said I would contact him Friday, but I’ve spent the day reviewing all the necessary documents and have decided to accept the inheritance Victor left for me.”

_ “Of course, sir. Mr. Travers is currently meeting with the senior partners, but I’ll let him know as soon as he returns,” _ Beatrice said.

“Thank you very much, Beatrice. Have a pleasant evening.”

_ “You welcome, sir. You as well.” _

Beatrice hung up, leaving Aren alone in a dark, quiet kitchen.  _ Well, I guess there’s no going back now.  _ They would let Katherine know in the morning. For now, they just wanted curl up next to their lover and sleep.

-

Aren sluggishly crawled into bed. A wave of exhaustion seemed to hit them as soon as their body met the sheets. They reached over and draped an arm over Katherine’s waist.

“Who were you talking to?”

They suppressed a yelp, not having expected her to be awake. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was more dozing than anything else.” Katherine rolled over so that she was facing them. “So?”

Aren shifted so that they were lying on their back. They directed their gaze at the pitch-black ceiling.

“Brown and Coulson’s,” they said after several moments.

Katherine perched herself up on her elbow. She made no move to turn on the lamp next to her side of the bed. Even in the dark, she could make out Aren’s form.

“And?”

“I told them that I’ll accept the inheritance,” they admitted. They turned their head to look at Katherine’s heavily shadowed form. “Are you mad?”

She sighed. She moved to snuggle into them. “I’m not mad,” she assured them. “Worried, yes, but not mad.”

Aren pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You don’t have to worry,” they murmured. “I’ll be okay.”

Katherine reached over and intertwined her fingers with Aren’s. They squeezed her hand.

“I love you, Aren.”

“I love you, too.”

Katherine closed her eyes and allowed herself to be lulled to sleep by Aren’s heartbeat. Aren continued to stare at the ceiling. They felt the rise and fall of her chest against theirs. Eventually, they lost their battle against sleep and their eyes slipped shut. Unlike the previous two nights, the two slept soundly through the night together.


	5. Preparation and Arrival

Before Aren knew it, Friday was upon them. Normally met with enthusiasm, this Friday only served to fill them with a sense of dread. After their call to Brown and Coulson, they had done their best to shove the coming events from their mind. As they had polished off the flat’s alcohol holdings several days prior, drinking themselves into a stupor proved to be a non-option. Instead, the past three days had been spent with Aren confronting a pressing problem the only other way they knew how: throw themselves into work and ignore the problem until they no longer could, or they collapsed from exhaustion. Whichever outcome happened first.

-

Unfortunately, the stress of now being the last Grimstone coupled with the lack of sleep that it brought meant that Aren experienced the latter outcome. A hunting accident involving a misplaced shotgun blast and an extended family made that the final half of Aren’s lengthy shift much more chaotic than desired. Furious mothers, wailing children, and warring brothers hadn’t helped the already sleep-deprived doctor. They, along with several other doctors and interns went from patching up gunshot wounds and other injuries to rushing to stop an all-out slugfest. By the time security arrived, the interns were treating the doctors as they worked to restrain some of the more rowdier family members. Aren promptly collapsed after the offending party members were removed, the sudden mental silence coming as a shock to their already exhausted person.

They awoke to Katherine’s concerned gaze and a frown from the head nurse. Katherine had been on the other side of the small-town hospital when the call for additional medical personnel went out. She, along with several other nurses, arrived just in time to see Aren crumple as security was escorting people out. While others exclaimed their dismay, Katherine merely shook her head. She had known that it was coming. They had done the same thing after Fredrick died, and ended up the exact same way.

Upon awakening, Aren was informed by Director Henshaw and Head Nurse Addison that they were to go home and rest. They attempted to protest, but a stern look from both the Director and Head Nurse quickly silenced them. Katherine was also given the rest of the day off, as all three knew Aren would most likely attempt to return to work a soon as the door shut on the flat. And so, a sulking Aren was sent home, in a wheelchair nonetheless, and told that if they appeared back on hospital grounds for anything less than a personal medical emergency, they would be suspended for a week.

-

Aren was still sulking Friday morning when they walked into the kitchen. Two cups of tea, freshly poured, sat steaming away on the kitchen bar while Katherine was busy making breakfast. Sausages sizzled away on the stove as she plated the scrambled eggs. Their stomach growled at the sight and smells.

Katherine looked up to see Aren enter the kitchen. She fought hard to hold back a smile. She didn’t need to be able to read their mind to tell that they were still put out by yesterday’s dismissal. _It was for their own good._ If Aren had had their way, they would’ve gone back to work until they collapsed once more. She shook her head. Her lover didn’t have the healthiest coping mechanisms. She’d done her best to try and alleviate some of them. But others, like their tendency to throw themselves into work with abandon, just stuck.

“Morning, love,” she greeted, moving the sausages to the plates. She placed them on to the bar.

Aren grunted their response.

“Full breakfast this morning, since we both have the day off. Figured you’d be hungry.”

Another grunt. _I’m not hungry._

Katherine simply raised her eyebrow. “Not hungry then, yeah?” She flashed them a teasing smile. “Guess that means I’ll have all this wonderful food to myself…” Aren’s stomach promptly let out a loud rumble that was audible throughout the kitchen. Katherine couldn’t help it. She laughed. _Knew that would get them._

Aren scowled down at their stomach. _Traitor._ They knew they were being childish, but by the gods, they had the right to be. Still, it wasn’t Katherine’s fault that they were stuck at home. They had made the choice to work until they dropped and paid the price.

Katherine pushed the eggs and sausage towards Aren.

Aren huffed but accepted the food, nonetheless. They took a couple of bites. _Not bad. No shells this time, at least._ Katherine wasn’t a terrible cook, per se, but there was a reason that they were usually the one who made breakfast. She had a tendency to rush through several steps during the breakfast making process that resulted in some rather interesting outcomes. The last time she cooked a full breakfast, though, the result had been scrambled eggs with a generous helping of eggshells and charred sausages. Upon taking in a large mouthful of eggs and their shells, both agreed that breakfast making would be left to Aren. Baking was a different matter entirely.

“Better?” Katherine asked. Aren was more of a morning person than she was, unless they were hungover (a rarity) or recovering from having driven themselves into the ground. Feeding them often proved to be enough to snap them out of whatever funk they happened to be in. And if it didn’t, food could at least draw them into a conversation.

Aren hummed. They took a large chomp out of one of the chicken bratwursts. “Much,” they said after moment. They paused. “I was an arse yesterday.” There was no other way to go about it. Petulance could only be used so much as an excuse.

Katherine took a sip of her tea. “You were.” She was willing to excuse some of their conduct, knowing just what kind of stress they were under. But it was still nice to see them acknowledge when they were in the wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Aren apologised.

“I know.” She reached out and took their hand. “We’ve talked about this before, though, Aren. Working until you drop, it’s not healthy.”

Aren’s head dropped. “I know.” They did know that. “I just…” _Wanted to get my mind off of things._ Drinking to cope wasn’t an option. If they had turned to drinking, they wouldn’t have stopped. Working until they couldn’t anymore wasn’t the best option, but it was all that they had.

Katherine sighed. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against theirs. _The tough person act is unbelievably hot and all, but you can talk to me. Don't keep me in the dark._

“I won't,” they said aloud. It was habit. As Aren Kaldwell, there hadn't been a need to discuss matters involving the Grimstone family for years. And when the need did arise, Aren preferred to keep it to themselves, mostly out of a desire to spare Katherine any anxiety. Now it looked as though that was no longer an option.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, please?”

Aren let out a breath. “That’s the thing, I don’t really know what’s bothering me,” they admitted. “It’s just...something.” They couldn’t describe the feeling with words. They could use their abilities to impart the sensation to Katherine, but they had no desire to subject her to it.

Katherine said nothing. Experience had taught her that Aren’s mental “feelings” weren’t something to be dismissed. They had often helped the pair avoid some rather unpleasant situations.

Aren shrugged. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” they tried to assure her. “Or at least, nothing worth worrying about now.”

Katherine hummed. She ran her fingers through their hair. “What time do you have to leave?” she asked, deciding the change the subject before the air grew even more somber around them.

“Seven.” The days were growing longer with summer only a month away. It worked to Aren’s advantage. It gave them more time to prepare while also cutting the time they would have to spend in the Manor.

“So...what I’m hearing is that we have the entire day to ourselves,” Katherine drawled.

Aren’s ears turned pink. “Aye, we do,” they said.

Katherine got up and tugged them along. “And we can always reheat breakfast,” she said. “Have us a nice brunch instead.”

Aren smiled slightly. “I don’t know about that,” they mused. “Reheated eggs tend to be rather...rubbery.”

Katherine gave them a look. “Aren.” Were they really turning down a chance to go back to bed and relax?

Aren chuckled. They allowed themself to be pulled close to her. “You know I’m just kidding,” they said. “I’d love nothing more than to just crawl back in bed with you and let the day pass us by.”

Katherine gently moved Aren around the kitchen counter. “Then let’s leave the breakfast and go back to bed.”

A wicked grin crossed Aren’s face. Before Katherine could say anything, she found herself swept quite literally off her feet.

“Aren!” She let out a shriek that dissolved into giggles. A second later, her eyes slipped shut as they pressed a kiss to her lips. The two broke apart, her arms wrapped around their neck. She was more than a little breathless. _Well, alright then._ If she had known that the offer of lovemaking was enough to draw Aren from their funk, she would’ve brought it up sooner.

“That’s a cheeky grin you have there, Mister Kaldwell,” Katherine teased. “What do you have planned?”

Aren shrugged as best they could with their lover in their arms. “A little bit of everything,” they said.

She raised an eyebrow at them. “Do you think we have time for that?” If they were thinking of doing what she thought they were thinking, then the next few hours would prove to be a whirlwind of activity. Not that she minded. Even though Aren had collapsed the day before, stress always seem to give them more energy, not less. If a round or four were what they needed in order to bring their head back down to earth, then so be it.

Aren’s cheeky smile turned positively salacious. “I mean, it is only eight in the morning,” they noted.

Another quick kiss that stole the breath from both of them. “Then let’s not waste anymore time, shall we?”

Aren laughed. “As my woman commands,” they said.

Katherine smiled. “Your woman?” she asked. It wasn’t often that they made possessive statements like that. However, she wouldn’t deny that she liked hearing it.

In an instant, Aren went from a smooth-talking individual to a flustered, stuttering mess. It never failed to amuse Katherine that, even after all their time together, a few words were all it took to turn Aren’s cheeks bright red and have the normally calm and collected individual stammering.

“I-I--” Aren struggled to collect themself. They took a breath. “Yeah, my woman.”

“Well, Mister Kaldwell, your woman requests that we go back to the bedroom.” It sounded odd outloud, but the smile that returned to Aren’s face made it completely worth it.

“Of course,” they replied with a tip of their head. They hurried to the bedroom with Katherine still in their arms, her laughter ringing throughout the apartment.

-

Several hours later, a thoroughly exhausted but sated Katherine watched from the bed as Aren toweled off from their shower. She couldn’t help but admire how their back muscles rippled as they pulled their binder overhead.

“Is it a good idea for you to bind tonight?” she spoke up.

Aren bit their lip at the question. Binding for more than eight hours wasn’t recommended. They had done it before and ended up breathless and sore ribs for their trouble. But they wanted to be comfortable tonight. Afterall, it would be the first time in ten years that they walked through the halls of Grimstone Manor as themself, instead of the frightened 11-year-old girl that had fled alongside her father.

“I don’t know,” they said, without turning to face her. They adjusted their binder before glancing over their shoulder. “I’ll pack a sports bra just in case. Push come to shove, I can just change while I’m there.”

Katherine nodded. Aren had plenty of practice getting their binder off in a hurry. Without her help, they could get it off in under two minutes and have a sports bra in its place twice as fast.

Aren tossed the now-damp towel onto the dresser before turning around. They crawled onto the bed, holding their body over hers. They paused for only a moment to get their bearings so that they didn’t tip off the bed. Then they leaned in and gently pressed their lips to hers.

Katherine pulled them down to her. She hooked her leg around theirs. In a single, fluid motion, she flipped them, so that she was now on top. Aren grunted into the kiss and made a small noise of displeasure as their back hit the mattress. She broke the kiss to look down at them. She bit her lip unconsciously, a habit she had picked up from them.

Aren picked up on her concern immediately. They reached up and placed a hand on her face.

“Hey, I’m going to be okay,” they soothed.

She closed her eyes and leaned into their touch. “I know,” she said. But how many times would Aren have to say that before either one of them believed it?

It was a good question. For all their bravado and strength they possessed, Aren was still at a disadvantage. There were things lurking deep within the halls of Grimstone Manor, things that would strike fear into the hearts of lesser individuals. It was possible that a few would be willing to side with Aren and provide them with some relief. But it was also likely that Victor’s tenure as Head had soured them to anything living.

Aren’s thumb stroked Katherine’s cheek, drawing her attention back to them. “Kath, tell me you don’t want me to do this,” they said. “Tell me that, and I won’t. I’ll stay and we can just…” _Just what? Spend the day in bed, ignoring the matter at hand?_

Katherine shook her head. She knew that Aren would honor their word and stay with her if she asked them to. But as she much as she wanted to be selfish and ask, she couldn’t.

Aren quietly pulled her down to them. Her naked form was pressed against them as they began running their fingers through her hair, undoing the messy twist she had in place.

“I’ll be okay,” they said again. This time, they didn’t know who they were trying to convince: her or themself.

Katherine hummed. “Are you sure I don’t want me to go with you?” She was only partially joking.

A sad smile. “I don’t want to drag you any further than you need to be.” A little levity returned. “Besides, if everything goes according to plan, you’ll be walking its grand halls in the morning.”

Neither one of them saw fit to mention that Katherine would be entering Grimstone Manor even if things didn’t go according to plan.

She settled against them. With her ear pressed against Aren’s chest, she could hear their heartbeat and drew comfort from the steady thrum. The two fell into a comfortable silence.

“So…” Katherine traced imaginary patterns across their shoulder. “Are we going to talk about the gun case you have stuffed in the underwear drawer?”

Aren about swallowed their tongue. “Uh…” They coughed.

“Aren, we share an underwear drawer.” She looked up at them. “Did you really think I wasn’t going to notice?”

They looked away, cheeks and tips of their ears rapidly turning red. “I shoved it under the ducky boxers,” they grumbled.

“Which are next to my red lace set,” she reminded them. “You know, the set I wore Wednesday night?”

“Oh.” In all honesty, Aren hadn’t even thought about that. Lacy underthings weren’t really something that they paid too much attention to. They were more Katherine’s thing, though Aren was known to wear a lacy pair of navy boyshorts once in a blue moon.

She flicked their noise. “So, gun. How and why?”

“Jack and reasons.” Was Aren’s short response.

_Of course it was Jack._ Katherine wasn’t entirely oblivious to the dealings that went on between her fiancee and their best friend. She shifted so that she was straddling them. Her hands were placed on either side of their head.

“Reasons?” she asked.

Aren swallowed. “It is fantastically unfair to ask that as you currently are,” they said.

Katherine simply raised an eyebrow at them before she sat back. The movement drew a groan from her and sent Aren’s head tilting back.

“Reasons, Mister Kaldwell.” A smirk accompanied her demand.

Aren huffed, the movement jostling Katherine slightly. “It’s just an intimidation piece,” they protested. _Liar._ “Just for security!”

“Uh huh.” Katherine was unconvinced. Aren wasn’t the greatest liar and their time together meant that she could read them like an open book. Based on what they had told her over the years, she doubted that a gun would make much of a difference against whatever it was that called Grimstone Manor home.

Aren grimaced. In all honesty, they shared Katherine’s doubts. It was highly unlikely that the gun would be any real help against the things that prowled the corridors of Grimstone Manor. But they hoped that the sight of them holding a weapon would be enough to give someone, or something, pause and allow them time to flee.

Katherine decided to take pity on them. She rolled off of them and propped herself up on her elbow to look at them.

“Just promise me you’ll get rid of the gun when this is all said and done.”

“Of course.” Just because Aren knew their way around a firearm didn’t mean that they were fond of them. Quite the opposite, in fact. While they did go shooting at the club from time to time, the simple fact was that Aren found guns to be loud and unwieldy outside of that controlled environment.

“Good.” And just like that, the conversation was over. Katherine snuggled up against them. Aren wrapped their arm around her, unconsciously stroking her bare back. Their touch drew a shiver from her.

“You know I have to get out of bed eventually, right?” Aren asked after a while.

“Should’ve thought of that before you came crawling back into bed.”

Aren chuckled. “Yes, dear.” They nuzzled her hair and let their eyes slip shut. They could get out of bed in a little bit. The sun was still up after all.

-

An hour later, a duffle bag sat by the front door as Aren finished getting ready.

“Snacks?” Katherine called from the kitchen.

“Already packed in the side pocket!”

“Charts?”

“Bottom of the bag!”

“Anxiety medication?”

“Still in the medicine cabinet, but I already took it!”

Katherine walked over. She watched while Aren laced up their boots. With one last tug of their laces, they looked up. She reached out and helped them stand.

“You ready?” she asked. It was more a question for her benefit.

Aren gave her a lopsided smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” they said.

She pulled them close, burying her face into their shoulder. She inhaled. A hint of antiseptic and cinnamon filled her nostrils. It was a scent that was so uniquely Aren.

“Please be smart tonight,” she murmured into their ear. “And not just about your binder.”

Aren returned the embrace. “I will.” And beat. “I love you.”

Katherine hugged them tighter. “I love you too.” She fought to keep her voice from quivering. _It’s just a night._ They had spent nights apart before and survived. But some part of her worried that if they walked out of the door, they wouldn’t be coming back.

“Hey, none of that,” Aren chided gently. “I’ll be home tomorrow morning, Kath.”

She pulled back. She dusted their shoulders while clearing her throat. “I’m holding you to that.”

Aren chuckled. “Yes, love.”

They pulled away, reaching to grab their duffle bag. They moved to leave but were stopped by Katherine nervously clearing her throat.

“Aren.” Their hand froze on the doorknob. “Call me when you get there, please.”

Aren glanced over their shoulder and gave her a faint smile. They nodded. “Of course.”

And with that, they stepped through the door, leaving Katherine alone in the flat. She exhaled. She placed her hand on the breakfast bar to steady herself as she slowly lowered herself into a chair. Her fingers came to rub her engagement ring.

_They’ve got this. They can handle it. It’s just a night._

-

Aren had a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel as they drove out to Grimstone Manor. The BBC played in the background. It was more to fill the silence than anything else. Given that it was a Friday, their vehicle was the only one headed away from town. Cars zoomed past them as people headed to the local for a pint or three to unwind. _And maybe to catch a shot of the game tonight._ With Premier League’s season was coming to an end, it was Manchester’s final game.

A shadow fell over car. They glanced out of the corner of their eye to see a curtain of clouds rolling in. _Well, that’s not ominous at all._ They were just clouds. _Nothing to worry about_ . They happened. Still, their stomach clenched as shadows slowly fell over the road _._

Aren spotted Grimstone Manor in the distance. The large, gothic estate stood out, especially with the town’s graveyard in the foreground. From their position in the car, the Manor looked especially dark, almost like its very presence was sucking the light from the sky. An old nursery rhyme rose unbidden to their mind.

_The house beyond the graveyard is no place to stay the night...for once its ancient doors creak shut, there will be no escape in sight…_

Their grip tightened even further as they drove past the graveyard. _Get a grip._ There was no reason to fear. The dead and House Grimstone had an understanding that had lasted centuries. Just because Aren had been away for the last ten years or so didn’t mean that they themself had forgotten that. They had always been respectful of the forces that lurked just outside of a mortal’s reach.

Aren let out a breath they hadn’t been aware they’d been holding once they were past the cemetery. Their relief was compounded by the return on the sun. Light quickly chased away the shadows and filled the car with warmth. A small smile twitched at their lips. _That’s a bit better._

-

Aren pulled up to Grimstone Manor. They inhaled and shut off their truck. _It’s now or never._ They jammed their elbow against the door panel, sending the door flying open. They grabbed their duffle bag and stepped out, slamming the door behind them. Gravel crunched under their boots.

Large, iron wrought gates loomed before them. They appeared to be as much an intimidation piece as they were practical. The tips that fell towards the sides of the gates looked to be especially lethal. _Pity the poor sod that tries to climb over._ Aren couldn’t help but wonder how much of the Manor’s sinister reputation was due to its architecture alone.

A slight puff of air ran across their shoulder. They let their eyes slip shut for a half a second at the touch. They imagined that their father was placing his hand on their shoulder in reassurance. A faint smile appeared on their face at the thought. Just as quickly as it rose, it fell as a bitter sadness swept through them. _Really wish you were here to walk through the gates with me._ This was as much Fredrick Grimstone’s home as it was theirs. Estrangement hadn’t changed that, no matter what Victor said.

“Miss Grimstone?” The squeal of wrought iron and a voice startled Aren from their thoughts.

Their head snapped to the right. A young woman approached them. She was dressed in a tailored maroon blazer with matching waist coat. Her slacks were tucked into a pair of what Aren assumed to be riding boots.

The woman held her hand out. “Miss Grimstone, I presume?” she asked.

“Mister,” Aren corrected as they moved their duffle bag to their other hand so that they could return the handshake. “And it’s Kaldwell.”

A slight frown flickered across her face. “Of course, my apologies, sir,” she said. “I’m Eloise Cartwright, Groundskeeper and Head of the Household.”

Aren matched her frown. “I thought Unser was the Head of the Household.”

“He was.” The barest hint of a smile. “But Lord Victor thought it was time that younger blood take the lead. My father agreed.”

_Somehow, I doubt that._ From what they remembered, Unser Cartwright wasn’t a man who easily bowed to the whims of others. How many times had they watched from behind bookshelves and tables as their grandfather and Unser argued over the day to day business of the Manor?

“Well, my uncle never acted without reason.” Aren gave her an easy smile. “I’m certain you’re more than qualified for the job.”

Eloise tilted her head. “Indeed.” She motioned towards the gates. “Now, shall we head inside before the sun sets?”

“Let’s.” Aren took a moment to lock their truck before following her.

A strange sensation swept over Aren the moment they crossed through the gates. Ice filled their veins. It was all they could do not to gasp aloud. They stumbled.

“Are you alright, Mister Kaldwell?”

Aren glanced up to see a look of concern on Eloise’s face. “I’m fine.” They dusted their slacks off. “Just lost my footing.”

Eloise didn’t appear convinced, but she said nothing else as she continued towards the grand oak doors.

Aren swallowed. _What in the seven hells was that?_ They glanced over their shoulder one last time. Something in the Manor had responded to their presence. What is was, they didn’t know. But it felt old. Incredibly old. They looked back at the Manor and sighed. They gripped the straps of their duffle bag tightly.

_What have I gotten myself into?_


	6. The Return

**** From a distance, Grimstone Manor had always carried a foreboding and mysterious presence. Up close, it was breathtaking. Its Gothic architecture spoke of a time that had long since passed and seemed at odds with the more modern buildings that made up the nearby town. But it also painted a picture of dark elegance that only served to add to the mystique that surrounded the Manor. It was no wonder people were so reluctant to travel out towards it.

Aren took in the sight before them. From the outside, Grimstone Manor appeared to have changed very little in the ten years since their flight. From their position on the manor grounds, several spires towered above them. The roof looked well-kept with not a shingle out of place. Giant oak doors stood before them. Aren reached out and ran their fingers over the intricate carvings.

“Is it as you remember?” Eloise asked, drawing Aren from their thoughts.

“Hm?” They glanced over their shoulder, having forgotten that the groundskeeper was accompanying them. “Oh, yeah, definitely.” A wry grin cross their lips as they turned their attention back to the doors. “If I’m being honest, it’s a lot better maintained than I thought it was going to be.”

Eloise giggled. “Despite what many believe, Lord Victor wasn’t a complete recluse. He entertained guests from time to time.” She motioned to the grand mansion before them. “As a result, he was very insistent that the Manor be well cared for.”

_ Makes sense _ , Aren mused to themselves. Unlike many other aristocratic houses, House Grimstone, despite their mysterious and cryptic reputation, had managed to maintain their considerable wealth in the modern age. As Aren had discovered several days prior, the Grimstones had business contacts all over the world. They knew, like Victor had, that such contacts needed to be courted properly to be maintained. A dilapidated mansion would have driven away potential partners, whereas a well-kept one would have them lining up to be wined and dined.

Eloise removed a set of keys from her purse, the clanking metal sharp against the otherwise quiet air. An ancient looking key caught Aren’s attention. Made of wrought iron, it was the darkest of the lot on the oversized key ring. The Grimstone family crest was stamped firmly at its end. They swallowed nervously at the sight. Like Grimestone Manor, that particular key and its crest were also things they hadn’t seen in years.

“Shall we go in?” she asked.

Aren returned their attention to the oak doors. The crest of House Grimstone, two great wolves with the Ouroboros clenched tightly in their jaws, stared back at them. Their grip tightened around the straps of their duffle bag ever so slightly.

“Let’s.”

Eloise slid the ancient key into the keyhole. Aren watched as she twisted it slowly. The lock keened for half a moment before a loud clang reverberated through the doors. She removed the key and stepped back, head bowed in deference to them.

Aren swallowed. They took a deep breath. No going back now. They pushed through the doors, taking their first steps into a place they hadn’t called home in years.

-

Aren absentmindedly nudged the doors shut behind them as they looked around the grand foyer. They were surprised to see how much it had changed. Before they and their father had left Grimstone Manor, the entrance hall had been gloomy. They could scarcely remember a time when the heavy curtains were pulled back to allow light in. Now, not only were they pulled back, but light spilled in, basking the foyer in a warm glow that caught and glinted on the antique chandelier that hung above. 

They walked through the entrance hall, taking everything in. There were long wooden tables with crimson runners along their tops lining the walls. Unlit candles in silver holders dotted the tops of the tables alongside empty bowls.  _ Maybe they held fruit when Victor entertained guests _ . The walls themselves held tapestries that, while tasteful, looked like they would be more at home in a museum than some aristocratic family’s entrance hall. They told the tale of House Grimstone’s lengthy history, with some panels considerably darker in nature than others; Aren doubted that an outsider would understand why. 

“You seem taken aback,” Eloise noted as Aren continued to gaze around the room.

“I’m just…surprised is all,” they said. “I don’t remember the entrance way being so warm or full of light. Victor’s doing, I’m guessing?”

“Yes,” she replied with a nod. “Lord Victor felt that the chandelier didn’t do enough to illuminate the hall. It is quite large, after all.”

That was an understatement. Grimstone Manor was one of the largest houses, if it could even be called that, in the area, and that was before one took the surrounding property into account. It had been built during a time when opulent homesteads were held only by the wealthy. Even today, as larger, grander homes rose on the market, Grimstone Manor still managed to outdo them all.

“Yeah, no kidding. Place makes mine look like a bloody broom closet.”

Eloise laughed. “It won’t for much longer,” she said. “Grimstone Manor is to be yours, after all.”

“Not yet it isn’t,” Aren remarked dryly. “I have to remain here until dawn.”

Eloise flashed them a small smile. “An easy feat for you, I’m sure.”

“Oh?” They raised an eyebrow in question. Privately, they disagreed. Victor’s letter had been remarkably ominous, even by Grimstone standards. Even without his letter, they knew that Grimstone Manor held a plethora of secrets, some of which were best left untouched. The fact that Victor had even sought to bring them to their attention at all left Aren feeling on edge.

Eloise shrugged. “You’re a Grimstone,” she said simply. “This place has been with your family for generations, has it not?” She didn’t wait for Aren to answer. “Despite your time away, I’m certain that these halls will recognize who walks them.”

_ That’s what I’m afraid of _ . To say that Grimstone Manor was wholly alive was incorrect, but there was no denying that it carried a unique feel, especially for the Grimstones themselves given their psychic abilities. Throughout the years, Grimstone blood, both figuratively and literally, had painted the stones of this place. Perhaps that, combined with its long history, were why Aren felt as if the Manor was tugging at them, trying to draw their attention to its dark corridors and hidden passageways. It was a sensation they certainly hadn’t missed.

“We’ll have to see, come dawn.”

-

Eloise and Aren made their way down the halls of Grimstone Manor. Aren was mostly silent, aside from the occasional noise of acknowledgement, as Eloise pointed out the various features, some old and some not, that were scattered around. If she was offended Aren’s lack of substantive communication, she didn’t mention it.

It was only after they had stridden past the library, grand dining room, and several other rooms, did Aren notice just exactly how quiet it was. They came to a halt.

“Where is everyone else?” They asked.

Eloise glanced over her shoulder. “The rest of the staff, you mean?”

Aren gave a curt nod. 

“They’ve left for the week.” At a raised eyebrow, she continued. “Lord Victor’s final wishes were well known to us, even before his death.”

“So they’ve gone until what, I take the mantle as Head of House Grimstone?” 

“Provided you remain until dawn, yes.” Eloise shrugged. “Which, as I’ve already established, shouldn’t be too much trouble for you.”

“And if I decide I want to leave before dawn?” They asked. “Then what should happen to all of you?”

“I was told by Lord Victor’s solicitor that he’d left letters of recommendation for all us, should we wish to work elsewhere, in the event that you be unable or unwilling to take your place as Head.”

“And would you?” At Eloise’s confused look, they clarified. “Work elsewhere, I mean, if I fail at this?”

Eloise folded her arms in contemplation. “I’m not certain,” she said after several moments. “The Cartwright family has served House Grimstone for generations. It’s very possible that my family and I would continue to manage the Manor for whoever came to own it.”

Aren was slightly stunned by her response. “You wouldn’t want to do anything else?” They were certain if Eloise could feel what they felt coming from this place, she would abandon it in a heartbeat. Maybe that was why House Grimstone left the management of its own household to those without the gift.

“Like I said, my family has served here for generations.” Aren frowned. “Besides, I quite like it here.”

And with that, Eloise turned smartly on her heel and continued down the hallway. Aren shook their head. 

-

At last, they arrived in the study. It was a large room, almost as big as their entire flat. There were several plush armchairs scattered about, with a noticeably fat couch in the middle before the fireplace. A stack of wood off to its right told Aren that Victor had used it often. The sight of firewood was an irony not lost on them, as they could remember how Victor seemed to shun anything warm.

A large mahogany desk sat near the windows. Its placement gave whoever sat behind it an unobstructed view of the door as so not to be taken unaware by an unexpected guest. A tall bookcase stood off behind it, placed in an angled corner in the right, most likely filled with Victor’s favorites. Something to change, presuming the Manor didn’t kill them before dawn.

“Well?” Eloise broke Aren from their observations. “What do you think?”

They looked around some more. “…there’s a lot of burgundy and black here, don’t you think?”

Eloise chuckled. “Lord Victor was fond of having the family colours on display.”

Aren shrugged, not offering a response. To each their own, they supposed. It wasn’t a terrible combination. It just made the place feel even darker than was probably necessary.

They moved towards the couch, dumping their duffle bag on the ground next to it. They ran their fingers over it. The leather was well worn. A black wool blanket with burgundy stripes running down its length covered the back of the sofa. Several plush pillows were piled to the right. 

Eloise noticed that Aren seemed slightly puzzled by the pillows. “We were uncertain if you preferred to spend the night here, or in the grand quarters,” she explained. “My father recalled how you used to sleep here when Mister Fredrick worked late, so we prepared both locations.”

“I’m surprised that Unser remembered such a small detail for so long.”

Eloise swept past Aren, moving towards the windows. They were slightly taken aback by the sudden, bold move. She gazed outside. The sun was still high enough to send shadows sprawling across the grounds. An uncomfortable silence reigned between them. 

“You and your father were sorely missed, you know,” she said after a while. She caught their confused look reflected in the window. She sighed. “The older members of the staff wished for your safe return.”

_ She said nothing of her generation,  _ Aren noted. They didn’t remember much about the children whose parents made up the household. Their paths rarely crossed. Aren had spent much of their time in the library or with tutors.

“And what of the rest of you?” They asked.

If Eloise was being honest, she’d never given much thought to them. She doubted the others had either. She had only ever caught glimpses of Aren prior to their flight. Her father had introduced her to Aren in passing, of course, but they’d never had a reason to interact outside of that. She, like the rest of the children on staff, were able to have lives outside the manor gates. 

“For a time, we didn’t understand,” she admitted. “All we knew was that your departure incensed Lord Victor quite a bit.”

“I can imagine,” Aren remarked dryly. 

“Of course, there was speculation from the adults.”

“Like what?” After all these years, they still had no idea what triggered the row between their father and Victor. Whatever it was, it led to a vicious mental and physical battle between brothers that shook the Manor to its very core and ended with Fredrick fleeing with his young daughter in tow.

Eloise bit her lip. It wasn’t for her to say. Besides, Lord Victor was dead. What good did bringing up conspiracy theories whispered between coworkers just out of earshot have? There was no way to prove anything that had been said over the years, though if her time at Grimstone Manor had taught her anything it was that the Manor held its fair share of secrets. 

_ Perhaps the truth behind their departure was one of them _ , she mused silently to herself. Were that the case, then Aren likely stood a chance tonight. She hoped so anyway. She found herself liking the estranged Grimstone. They reminded her Mister Fredrick. He had always been kind and treated the staff like family. Lord Victor hadn’t been outright cruel; he couldn’t be, not when he needed all of them to maintain the Manor. But he certainly hadn’t garnered any friends amongst the household. 

“Eloise?” Aren asked cautiously. Her silence was starting to bother them. They hadn’t missed the way she bit her lip, nor how she’d tensed at their question. 

Eloise shook her head. She turned to face them, leaning against the window as she did so. A fake smile plastered itself across her lips, though if Aren noticed its falseness, they gave no indication.

“The speculation was nothing more than drunken tales shared between men at the end of the work day,” she said. “I’m certain you’ll be made aware the reason behind your father’s sudden departure later.”

Aren frowned.  _ That was…cryptic. _ They reached out mentally, trying to see what exactly Eloise was hiding. As soon as they brushed against her mind, a mental wall came slamming down. It took everything Aren had to not flinch. They’d never been shut out so forcefully before. The look in Eloise’s eyes were the only evidence that she was aware of their attempt to peek through her mind. Her eyes made it clear that a second attempt would be ill-advised. 

Aside from the coldness she was sure her gaze conveyed, Eloise gave no further indication that she’d noticed Aren going through her mind. Given the abilities held by the members of House Grimstone, mental intrusions were almost expected by anyone who worked at the Manor. Most went unaware that they occurred, but her father had taught her how to recognize the signs. Years of working for Lord Victor had given her the skills needed to prevent a forced mental intrusion.  _ At least Aren was gentle about it _ . Lord Victor lacked the finesse possessed by his brother and niece. He had tended to bulrush through a person’s mind. How people rarely noticed Lord Victor’s searching was beyond her.

The air between the two grew tense. Aren could feel their face heating up. This was a first for them. No one, aside from their father and Victor, had ever shut Aren out before. Most people had no reason to; they couldn’t tell the difference between a nagging thought and a Grimstone digging through. Obviously, Eloise wasn’t most people. Her eyes spoke volumes about her experience.  _ Unser obviously taught her a few things. _

Eloise finally took pity on Aren. Their probing hadn’t been malicious. They simply wanted answers to the questions she wouldn’t answer.

“Regretfully, there are some answers that I can’t provide you with,” she said. “Lord Victor’s letter made it clear that they were for you to discover.”

As their embarrassment receded, Aren didn’t know whether to be disgruntled or impressed by Eloise’s calm dismissal. The loud tolling of clock tower bells prevented Aren from saying anything further. They and Eloise glanced out the window to see the sun starting to set.

“I must take my leave now,” Eloise said. 

Aren tipped their head in acknowledgement. “Of course.” Victor’s letter had been clear: they were to remain here, alone, from dusk until dawn.  

Eloise moved to leave. “Per Lord Victor’s orders, the Manor will be locked upon my departure,” she informed them. “Should you wish to leave at any point before dawn, simply use the phone on the desk.”

Aren raised an eyebrow. The phone is question was an old rotary.  _ She can’t be serious. _ It had clearly seen better days. It was so worn that they’d mistaken it for a mere table decoration.

“I’m going to assume this thing actually works and you’re not setting me up here,” they remarked dryly.

Eloise could tell they were joking, but she gave them a look nonetheless. Aren held their hands up.

Considering the matter solved, she continued her way to the door. Just before she reached it, she stopped. She had no idea why, but something compelled her to pull out the keyring and remove one of the keys. It was a key she’d never seen before. She placed it on the table.

“It won’t let you out.” Despite never having seen the key in question before, something told her that it wouldn’t. “But I think you’ll have some use for it.” 

Aren frowned. Even from where they stood, they could tell that Eloise’s words and actions were completely unnatural. Still, it didn’t seem harmful. There would be time to ponder it later. 

Eloise shook her head to clear it. “I wish you the best of luck, Aren,” she said genuinely before she left the study.

-

Aren examined the key as soon as Eloise was gone. They were unnerved. Even though they hadn’t been the target, they had felt the compulsion sweep through the air. They couldn’t quite tell where it came from. 

They turned the key over in their hand. It had a decent weight to it. Like the key that unlocked the Manor, this one was made of wrought iron. It too had the family crest stamped at the end of its pommel. Something about it made Aren incredibly wary. It felt off, almost clingy. It was as if the key were a shadow, mentally holding on to keep their attention. 

_ In peace, vigilance. In war, victory. In death, sacrifice.  _ The Grimstone family motto rose unbidden to their mind. They placed the key back down immediately and took several steps back.

_ What the hell? _

-

Eloise drew the doors to Grimstone Manor shut. She slid the ancient key into the door. They locked with a sharp clunk and a twist of her wrist. She looked up towards the study to see the shadowed outline of Aren in the window. Eloise couldn’t believe that she had to play a part in this. It was true that Lord Victor’s machinations had brought House Grimstone great success in the modern age, but it wasn’t enough for him. He had to have power. The small amount of information she managed to uncover regarding his final plan said as much. It also painted a dire picture of a man who cared little for its cost.

She pushed away and exhaled. The Cartwright family had served House Grimstone for generations. Years of service, however, didn’t immediately translate to loyalty to its Head. Eloise had found hers to be waning as time went on in service to Victor. Yes, she called him Lord, but she’d never been particularly loyal to him. Her true loyalty laid with the House itself. She’d gone to great pains to conceal that fact, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever suspected. His deathbed request had been to her, after all, and wound up put her in a loathsome position: to serve the House and reveal the truth in her disloyalty or go against everything she stood for to conceal it and carry out his final order. 

There was nothing she could do about it now. Aren was here. The doors were locked. And the chiming clock tower told her that dusk was finally here. 

She had no doubts about Aren’s strength.  _ I just hope it’s enough.  _ With a final glance at the study, Eloise departed, praying that Aren would make it.

-

“…I’m settling in fine, love,” Aren said.

_ “You don’t sound fine.”  _ They had to fight back a smile at Katherine's words. Even over the phone, she was somehow still able to sense how they were doing. 

They braced their right forearm against the window, leaning into it. They gazed out to the grounds surround the Manor, watching as the sun slowly fell.

“…something just feels off,” they said after several moments. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s there.”

Even before Aren had revealed their abilities and background to her, years of being with them had taught Katherine to no doubt their ‘feelings.’ On more than occasion, Aren’s feelings had spared the both of them from precarious situations. 

_ “You can leave before dawn,”  _ she reminded them.

They grimaced. “Something tells me that’s not going to be the case.”

_ “You packing the gun makes a lot more sense now,”  _ Katherine noted. 

“I have no idea how useful it’ll be against whatever it is I find here.” They pushed themselves away from the window. “I’m just hoping it’ll be enough to give someone pause. If it doesn’t, I’ll have myself to fall back on.”

_ “I know you’re skilled Aren, but that doesn’t exactly inspire me with confidence.” _

“I’ll be okay,” they assured her. They could see that the sun was almost completely gone now. “Hey, listen, I have to go, but before I do, I need you to promise me something.”

_ “And my worry’s just increased exponentially.” _

“Kath,” Aren said in exasperation.

Katherine’s laugh rang out from the phone.  _ “It’s going to have to depend on what it is, Mister Kaldwell.” _

Despite how serious they were trying to be, they couldn’t fight the smile that came up at her words. They worked to gather themselves.

“I need you to promise me that you won’t come here before dawn.”

_ “Aren…”  _ Katherine sounded stricken by the request.

“I mean it, Kathrine.” Aren’s tone was heavy. “Even if you get a phone call from me asking you to come, if it’s before dawn, don’t.”

_ “Why?” _

“Just because.” They couldn’t explain it. How could they? It was a feeling, a sensation just out of reach that spoke of ill consequences. They wouldn’t be able to live with themselves if Katherine ended up hurt, or worse, because of the Manor’s machinations.

_ “You’re not giving me much to work with.”  _ Aren could hear her frustration.

“Promise me.” Silence. “Katherine,  _ please _ ,” they pleaded. 

More silence. They bit their lip. Finally, she spoke up.

_ “…I promise.” _ Aren let out a breath of relief.  _ “But you’re going to have to give me an explanation when I see you tomorrow.” _

“Deal.” A beat. “I love you.”

_ “I love you too.”  _ Her tone was warm.  _ “Just make sure you make it back tomorrow.” _ Even if Katherine didn’t know the specific details, Aren’s behavior and request were making her nervous.

“I will.” Aren hung up. They tossed their phone onto the desk near them and ran their fingers through their hair. The sun had completely set now. In its place was a full moon that cast menacing shadows across the grounds.

Aren moved to the couch and sat down. The fireplace crackled in the background. They folded their hands and stared into the flames. The gravity of the situation fully settled on them. They were back in Grimstone Manor, locked in until the sun rose again or they died. Their eyes drifted to the key on the coffee table. Something wanted them to have that key. For what purpose, they couldn’t say. They would have to wait for it to reveal itself. 

_ I hate waiting _ . They turned the key over in their hands. A sardonic smile twisted across their lips. Grimstone Manor held an untold number of secrets, many of which were better left undiscovered. 

_ In death, sacrifice.  _ The final line of family motto once again came unbidden into their mind. 

Aren leaned back, key still in their hands. They needed answers. Unfortunately, it looked like they would have to play Victor’s final game to get them.

-

Deep within the bowels of Grimstone Manor, an ancient presence stirred. It knew itself only as the Great One; its original name having long since been lost to time. It witnessed the dark machinations of the Avaricious One over the years and refused to establish a connection with him as a result. Instead, it chose to slumber. It languished for a decade, its senses dulled as it waited for the rightful heir to return. But it was for naught. To the Great One’s dismay, the Solemn One fell shortly after departing and the Avaricious One denied him his death rites. 

Despite having spent the last ten years hibernating, the Great One was not ignorant of the goings on in the Manor. The fleshy things that walked the halls declared the Avaricious One dead. It knew otherwise. It could still sense his corrupted presence, but it could do nothing. A decade long torpor had weakened it. It needed someone strong to wield its essence. The Solemn One was its preferred choice as he knew true duty, but he was dead. His child would have to do in his stead. They were strong and time had left their sense of duty untouched.

_ Yes, they would certainly do _ . The Avaricious One would not win. He could not. Otherwise, doom would come for them all.


	7. Labyrinth of Dreams and Nightmares

****Aren’s eyes were itchy with sleep. Only two hours had passed since Eloise had locked them in the Manor and they already felt exhausted. They didn’t know why. All they had done in that time was make themself a light meal and some tea and go over patient charts.

They scanned their charts for the umpteenth that hour. _Miss Thomas needs her cholesterol medication adjusted._ They flipped the page and sighed. _And a reminder about watching her blood sugar. Again._ There few things Aren found more frustrating than a patient who refused to listen to medical advice. They were willing to cut Rebecca Thomas some slack given her advanced age, but still. _If she keeps this up, she’ll lose her kidneys._

They moved on to the intern notes and soon found the words starting to blur together. They rubbed their eyes, hoping it would clear things back up. It didn’t. Before long, the stats and words melded back into an incomprehensible mess of numbers and letters. In frustration, they ripped their glasses off and tossed them onto the coffee table in front of them.

Aren made a noise of disgust. The sides of their head felt tight, a sure sign that their body was craving sleep. Their exhaustion was weighing on them like a lead cloak. _I shouldn’t be this tired._ How many nights had they spent up, going over chart after chart during their residency? They let their head loll back against the couch. A fire crackled away merrily in the fireplace as they contemplated whether or not to let their eyes rest.

Out of nowhere, a chill swept through them. Their head jerked as their body tensed. Something was wrong. Against their will, their eyes started to slip shut. They fought to push back against whatever it was that was drawing them deeper into a state of exhaustion, but to no avail.

“What…” They never got a chance to finish. Things went black as they felt themself fall into the arms of Morpheus.

-

Aren’s eyes opened to a study full of sunlight. They sat up and glanced around. Gone were the black and burgundy blankets and curtains. In their place was a decidedly un-Grimstone colour pallet of soft greys and warm reds. _What the in the seven hells…?_

They made their way over to the window. They were greeted by the sight of laughing children running through the front garden. They spotted Katherine sitting on the steps out of the corner of their eye. Even from up in the study, they could make out the unbridled happiness on her face. Katherine appeared to sense that they were watching. She glanced up and smiled, waving at them. They gave a small wave in return, still not quite sure what was going on.

“I should probably head down there,” Aren muttered. “Try to figure out where I am…”

They pushed away from the window. They moved to leave the study. They glanced over their shoulder. Children still roamed about. _They all look so carefree_. Aren shook their head. _Focus Kaldwell._

-

Aren walked down the halls of Grimstone Manor. Like the study, the severe colours of House Grimstone had been replaced with lighter variants. Every so often, they had to squint against the brightly lit corridors. _I never imagined this place could be so bright_. Light was filling the Manor in a way Aren had never believed possible.

“Lord Aren?”

_Lord?_ Aren turned to see Eloise coming up from behind them.

“Hello, Eloise,” they greeted. They did their best to keep their voice even.

She gave them a bemused look. “Is everything alright? You seem dazed,” she said. “Shall I get Lady Katherine?”

“No!” Eloise jolted at their volume. Aren winced. “I mean, no, that won’t be necessary.” They gave her what they hoped was an easy smile. “I was just headed down to her.”

She tipped her head in acknowledgement. “Of course. I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Right.” They couldn’t help but stare after her as she walked away. They bit back a yelp of surprise when she vanished right before their eyes. _What is going on?_

Aren turned smartly on their heel and quickly hurried down the corridor. They were no longer content with just admiring the shiny new sights around them. They needed answers.

-

Aren pushed past the thick oak doors. It was even brighter outside. They quickly raised a hand to shield their eyes. Before they could do anything else, a loud shout of, “Renny!” caught their attention. Moments later, something slammed into them.

They grunted at the force of the impact. Aren looked down to see a child no older than four clinging to their legs. Crimson eyes stared up at them with unconcealed adoration. _Could they be…?_

Katherine’s laugh made both Aren and the child look up.

“Octavia, sweetheart, I told you to wait,” she gently chided as she approached the two. Aren’s breath caught in their throat at the sight of a baby with snow white hair fast asleep in her arms. “Your Ren just woke up.”

The girl, Octavia, kicked at the ground. “Sorry, Mummy.”

_Mummy?_ Aren’s eyebrows shot up. Had they heard correctly?

Katherine deftly maneuvered the baby in her arms to free up a hand. She reached down and gently fluffed Octavia’s brunette locks.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Just remember to give your Ren some time after they wake up, okay?”

“Okay, Mummy.”

Gentle scolding delivered, Katherine focused her attention back to her spouse. She smiled warmly at Aren. She reached out and placed a hand on their face. Aren leaned into her touch, letting their eyes slip shut. A moment later, they felt her lips on theirs.

Aren immediately noticed that the kiss was different from others they had shared. There was a warmth behind it that they couldn’t explain. There were few things they enjoyed more than kissing Katherine, but this felt unnatural.

Aren pulled away to examine the woman before them. Katherine’s face was softer than they remembered it being. There was no worry in her eyes, no exhaustion from long shifts. _This isn’t real,_ they realised. The woman before may have sounded and looked like their Katherine, but she wasn’t her. It was as if someone had crafted this woman out of the shallowest memories Aren held.

“Aren?” Katherine’s question snapped them from their observations. Her face was full of concern. “Is everything okay? You look like something’s troubling you.”

“No, it’s nothing,” Aren lied. “I’m just...I’m occupied with some things.” Even though the woman in front of them wasn’t their Katherine, a part of them still felt guilty for lying.

Katherine made a noise of sympathy. “It can’t believe it’s been four years and you’re still having to root out the consequences of Victor’s machinations,” she sighed. “I don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if Victor had succeeded.”

“Y-yeah,” Aren stammered out. _Machinations?_ Just what had Victor done? And how were they tied into it?

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Katherine pressed.

“I’m fine,” they said immediately. They glanced down at Octavia who appeared to be sharing in her mother’s worry. They picked her up and smiled back at Katherine. “I think I’m just sluggish from my nap, is all. Sunlight’s helping.” The smile turned cheeky. “As is your beauty.”

Katherine blushed and rolled her eyes good naturedly. _Well, at least that stayed the same._ “You’re such a flirt!”

“I try.”

A harsh gust of wind interrupted the two. Octavia whimpered and clung tighter to Aren. _What on earth?_ They glanced back at Katherine, only to find her gone. Clouds swept through the sky, quickly blotting out the sun. Aren squeezed Octavia in their grip, or tried to at least. They were alarmed to discover that she, like Katherine, had vanished. Unnaturally dark shadows formed across the grounds, plunging the surrounding area into darkness. The inviting warmth that had present bled away before their eyes. In its place was a bone-chilling cold that had Aren shivering.

They slumped against the oak doors, suddenly drained. The brighter colours slipped away and were replaced by crimsons and blacks and other dark hues that House Grimstone seemed fond of.

A thick fog began rolling in. _Oh, wonderful._ Aren didn’t have the strength to move out of the way. They used what little strength they had left to curl up as the fog enveloped them.

-

Despite the fires crackling around them, it was still so cold when Aren opened their eyes. The world they were greeted by was a perverted opposite of what they had just experienced. Ash fell like snow. A quick glance over their shoulder revealed a dilapidated mansion. Their eyes trailed upwards to see a human head tacked firmly to the rotten oak doors. They recoiled. _Gods!_

Aren quickly pushed themself to their feet. They stumbled in their rush to get away from the doors. With some distance between them and the Manor entrance, they were able to take in just how dark this world had become. Even without the human head nailed to its doors, the Manor had seen better days. Just about every window they could see was broken. The structure itself was crumbling in areas. The eastern wing of the house had collapsed entirely.

_What happened here?_

Their eyes were drawn back to the head. It took them a moment to figure out whose head it was. Their stomach dropped. It was Unser’s. Aren swallowed.

The former groundskeeper had suffered horrific treatment. One of his eyes was missing, with the other hanging out by a thread. The amount of dried blood coming from both sockets made it clear that the poor man had been alive when they were removed. Dried blood around his mouth indicated that his tongue had also been removed perimortem. What really made Aren’s stomach twist was the state of the head itself. The half with the remaining eye had been crudely flayed. The other half had been left to just decompose. It was like some macabre parody of Two-Face.

_I really hope he was dead when they did that._

Aren reached out. Suddenly, Unser’s head let out a moan.

“Ah!” They jerked their hand back as the head thrashed against the spike holding it to the door.

Without its tongue, Unser’s head could do nothing but groan. Even then, it was still a terrifying sight. Aren took several steps back, as if putting more space between them and the head would protect them.

“I’d very much like to wake up now, please!”

A scream caught Aren’s attention. It was loud enough to drown out Unser’s agonised death groans. It immediately put them on edge. _This isn’t real._ It couldn’t be. But could they afford to ignore someone in need, even if it was just a dream? Were they that willing to cast their morals aside in the face of a dream?

No, was the answer. They turned their attention away from Unser’s decapitated head and started running in the direction of the shriek.

-

Aren’s boots crunched against fallen glass and other debris as they raced towards the source of the noise. Ash was falling heavier now. If it weren’t for their glasses, they were sure that they would’ve been blinded by now.

They skidded to a stop just in time to see someone cut down. From the back, they couldn’t tell who it was. Then the body hit the ground. Their heart stopped. There, amid the glow of countless fires in the background, lay Katherine.

“Katherine!” Aren rushed to their fallen lover. Upon reaching her, they fell to their knees. They choked back a sob at the sight of her empty eyes. A large gash was visible across her chest. It had almost completely disemboweled her. A pool of blood grew steadily larger with each passing second. They gently picked her up and held her close, pointedly ignoring the blood that covered them. She was so still against them. The sickeningly sweet, metallic scent of blood filled their nose.

“Gods...gods, please, no,” they sobbed. _This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This can’t be real._ It couldn’t be real. Even with the wet blood soaking through their shirt and the sickeningly sweet, metallic scent of blood filled their nose, this just couldn’t be real.

Aren clutched Katherine tighter to them as they rocked back and forth on their knees. _I want to wake up now. I want to wake up now_. Their cries of anguish echoed across the grounds.

_“You...you did this.”_ A broken rasp came from Katherine’s lips. Aren stiffened. They looked down. Her blank eyes stared back at them. Her lips were red with blood.

“Katherine?”

_“You did this to me. You’re everything they said you were. I should have listened to them.”_ Her statements were cruel, her tone harsh. Aren flinched with every word.

“Katherine--”

_“You killed me.”_

“No!” Aren shook their head in denial. “No.”

_“You killed me,”_ Katherine said again. _“You did this.”_ A second later, her body slipped from their grasp.

Aren tried desperately to keep a hold on her but to no avail. Her body landed on the ground with a nearly inaudible thumb. Her eyes stared blankly at the blackened sky. No more words poured from her crimson-stained lips.

They reached out to touch her, to try and bring her close to them again. But as soon as their hands made contact with her skin, it immediately began to blacken. _What?_

“No, no, no!” _Please!_ They hadn’t done this. They couldn’t have.

A dark chuckle sounded in front of them. Aren froze. They knew that laugh. It had haunted their dreams for years, after all. They looked up to see themself staring right back. Their eyes were drawn to the blood staining their doppelganger’s hands and clothing.

“Are you so sure about that, my dear niece?” Ice slid through Aren’s veins as they realised it was Victor standing before them.

Victor, in Aren’s form, knelt before them. He stroked a finger along Katherine’s arm, leaving a trail of scorched flesh in its wake. Aren wanted to scream at him.

“Poor thing,” he murmured. His voice soft, but the underlying cruelty was easily detected by Aren’s ears. “She was the only one who noticed the change. She fought me with everything she could, convinced that you would return to her.”

Aren’s nostrils flared with rage at his words. _You bastard._ Every fiber of their being shouted at them to move, to strike Victor down. But they were frozen. Aren didn’t know if it was due to fear, rage, or Victor’s very presence. Whatever it was, it held them firmly in place.

“But it was all for naught. The last thing your darling Katherine saw before she died was _your_ face,” he flicked Aren’s cheek. They flinched at the contact. “As far as anyone’s concerned, _your_ hands cut her down. _You_ did all of this.” Victor motioned to the ruined world around them. “ _You_.”

“I...would n-never!” Aren managed to snarl out.

It was odd to see their own face twist into such a vicious expression, but it was no less terrifying. If anything, the sight of such a beatific smile tinged with darkness filled them with even more dread.

Victor stood. “My dear niece, you are so much like your father. You deny the inevitable.”

Anger flared in Aren. It pushed past their grief and left a burning hatred in its wake. _Don’t you dare talk about my father._

“You can’t stop this. No matter how much you try, you will never be able to stop this.”

_This isn’t real._ This had to be some twisted vision of the future. No dream could be this cruel. No nightmare could house a monster this evil.

He fisted Aren’s collar and hauled them to their feet. With an unnatural strength, he pulled them close.

“Soon, my dear niece,” he crooned. “I will be a god and this will be all yours.”

“Fuck. You.” Aren spit out.

Victor sighed. He casually tossed them aside. They were sent flying into a pile of debris.

Aren groaned. _Ow_. The collision had left them dazed. Feeling slowly returned to their limbs allowing them to push themself up ever so slightly. They lifted their head to see Victor calmly approaching. Frost blossomed behind him with every stop he took.

_Shite_. Even with the feeling back in their limbs, Aren still didn’t have the strength to move.

Victor drew his hand back. “You will learn what happens when you try to stop a god.” Aren glared back at him, eyes burning with unshed tears and defiance. “And suffering shall be your teacher.”

Aren closed their eyes. _Please let me wake up now._ The memory of Katherine’s broken form was vivid in their mind’s eye. This has to be a bad dream.

A harsh blast of wind screamed past them, but the blow that they were expecting never came. They opened their eyes in confusion. Victor was nowhere to be seen. They frowned. They tried to push themself up to get a better picture of what was going on. That proved to be a mistake. In their attempt to stand, their hand knocked a single brick to the ground. The thump it made echoed over the endless fires burning around them. Then everything cracked.

_Well, shite._

A moment later, the ground shattered. Aren scrambled for purchase but no avail. They plummeted into the dark expanse that had opened up beneath them.

They screamed.

-

Aren’s vision swam as they came to. They looked around and immediately wished they hadn’t. While the numerous fires and stench of countless corpses were no more, the endless void wasn’t any more comforting.

_Where am I?_

“Why, you’re in the Void, of course,” a smooth voice said.

Aren shot to their feet, spinning around with fists raised. They were met with by sight of rather plain looking man. He was dressed in a simple brown coat and blue slacks tucked into black boots. His white hair signaled to them that he, at one point, had also been a member of House Grimstone, or at least was tied to them. It was his eyes, however, that truly caught Aren’s attention. The sclera and pupils were pitch black, as if ink had been dropped into his eyes.

“Aren Kaldwell…” A wide smile broke across his face. “We meet at last.”

“Who are you?” Aren asked.

“I’ve been called many things over the years, by many people.”

“Well I’m asking, so stop dancing!” They demanded. Everything they’d just seen had left them raw and exposed. They had no patience for cryptic responses.

The man tilted his head. “I’m a friend of sorts, of your father’s, from the bad old days.”

“Still doesn’t tell me who you are.” _Or what you are._ He walked like a human, talked like one too, but his appearance in the Void alongside them made it clear that he wasn’t one. The air around him felt ancient and powerful.

He shrugged. “I thought it would be obvious.” Aren continued to frown at him. “You walked my halls as a child and now you’re finally home, and you still don’t know. I don’t know if I should be offended or disappointed.”

Aren’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “I’m talking to the Manor. Are you kidding me?”

The man’s smile turned shark-like. “I’m afraid not, Mister Kaldwell,” he said. “But don’t get too torn up over it. Things are bound to get even weirder before the night is up. I guarantee it.”

Aren was immediately on edge. “What do you know?”

Without warning, he vanished. A second later, he reappeared behind them. “Enough,” he said. He stepped to the left as Aren turned around to face him. “I’ve been watching events unfold for quite some time, you know.”

“Like what?” Aren didn’t bother to hide the suspicion in their tone.

“Like your mother dying, for one. I watched as the life slowly slipped out of her eyes. Watched the last bit of breath leave her lips.” A sad smile. “She was a nice woman. Kind. Strong. She didn’t deserve to die the way that she did.”

Aren said nothing. They remembered just how Elizabeth Kadwell had passed. The sickness has come without warning. She’d steadily grown weaker and weaker with each passing day until the day arrived when what little life she had left passed from her lips in a soft sigh. Her death had left her husband and their child grief stricken.

“I’ve spent the last ten years trying to thwart your uncle, doing my best to nudge things along or out of the way all together,” he said matter of factly. “But without your father around, well…”

He vanished again, only to resurface on a nearby outcropping of rocks. “It’s been difficult. I can only do so much as I am now.”

“Is that why I ended up back at the Manor? To help you?” Aren questioned.

“As much as I wish I could claim responsibility for bringing you to the Manor, I can’t.” He shook his head. “Your arrival here was entirely Victor’s doing.”

“Why?”

“Because he has a grand plan in place, and you were the piece he needed to bring it all together.”

“Victor’s dead. My being here isn’t going to change that.” As powerful as Aren was, they weren’t powerful enough to change the fact that there was no way to truly bring back the dead. They could summon spirits and communicate with them with ease. But to bring an actual person back from the Void was far beyond them.

“Are you so sure about that, little eaglet?” Aren twitched at his usage of their mother’s private nickname for them.

“He’s dead,” they repeated. If Victor’s grand plan was to have them violate the most serious taboos their family held, then he’d obviously lost more of his mind than they thought.

“You better than anyone should know that the dead can linger,” he reminded them.

Aren frowned. To raise the dead violated the oldest, most serious taboos held by House Grimstone. That wasn’t to say that people hadn’t tried. They had. They were few in number, scattered throughout the family’s history, and all had met rather gruesome ends as a result of their actions.

The black-eyed man sighed. “A story is unfolding, Mister Kaldwell,” he said. “You’ve seen two different outcomes. Now, it’s up to you to decide just what role you’ll have in it.”

Suddenly, he was in front of them. “But that’s a decision best made after you. _Wake. Up_.”

_-_

Aren’s eyes flew open. They shot up, a scream dying in their throat. Their heart pounded beneath their ribs. A bead of cold sweat made its way down the side of their face.

_How long was I out for?_ A quick glance at their watch told them that only an hour had passed.

Aren pressed their face into their hands. They took a breath. _It wasn’t real._ This wasn’t the first time they’d had such graphic nightmares. Their Grimstone blood left them open to things that lurked just beyond the edge of one’s consciousness. As a result, many of their nights in years past had been spent running through endless mazes to escape various entities. Not all of them had entirely malevolent, of course. They just didn’t quite understand the nuances of human communication and had inadvertently terrified a much younger Aren while trying to say hello.

Still, the dreams had been remarkably vivid. A lump rose in their throat as they remembered the sight of Katherine’s broken body in their arms. They exhaled, fighting back tears. _It was just a nightmare. She’s fine,_ they reminded themself.

A log popped. Aren flinched at the noise. Suddenly, they were regretting having put the fire on. Images of a smouldering ruin and a world on fire took the place of Katherine’s corpse in their mind. They didn’t know if that was an improvement.

_All that death and destruction...is Victor really capable of that?_ From what they remembered, Victor’s powers hadn’t been on the same level as their father’s. Victor’s abilities were nothing to scoff at, but he’d never displayed the finesse required to use them to their fullest potential. It was something that Fredrick had made comments about to his child up until his untimely death.

_“He has a grand plan in place, and you were just the piece he needed to bring it all together.”_

Aren frowned as the black-eyed man’s words echoed in their head. _What plan?_ If Victor’s grand plan was to possess them and turn them into a weapon of destruction, then he was obviously a bigger loon than Aren remembered him being. All of the rituals that would allow such a thing required that the person doing the possessing be alive. _Of course, he could just kill me,_ they mused. Possessing a corpse still took a considerable amount of skill and power but it was significantly easier than trying to take control of a living being. However, that still required that Victor be alive for it to work.

_I’m missing something._ Everything about this, from them being named heir to their dreams, stunk. They were here for answers and were willing to play Victor’s game to get them. But it was hard to play a game when you didn’t have all the rules or pieces. And there was nothing Aren hated more than not having all the pieces.

Aren let out a breath and got up. They glanced down at the pot of tea they had sitting on the coffee table. It had undoubtedly gone cold during their nap. _Should probably go make a fresh pot._ A walk down to the kitchens might even help clear their head. They yawned.

_Best get the lights on before I head down._ It would wake them up and make it easier to find their way back to the study. They headed over and turned the lights on. Or at least, they tried to. Repeated flicks of the light switch saw the lamp remain dark. They bit back a sigh. _Well, that’s just wonderful._

Without warning, the clocktower bells began to clang. Aren frowned. Another look at their watch told them that there was no reason for the bells to be going off. A moment later, the air shifted. Aren’s knees buckled as a wave pure malice swept through. They fought the urge to retch. A faint green glow caught their eye as they dry heaved.

They looked up to see sickly green moonlight spilling into the study. They pushed themselves back onto their feet and stumbled back over to the coffee table. They grabbed through their duffle bag, shaking it out until a torch fell out with a thunk. They were relieved to see that it still worked.

“Oh, thank the gods,” Aren muttered.

A giggle caught their attention. They pointed the torch beam in the direction of the noise, revealing a young girl dressed in a white nightgown. Aren’s brow furrowed. _I thought I was the only one here._ As far as they knew, no children walked through the halls of Grimstone Manor. Those that had were either grown up or dead. Or both.

The girl giggled again. Aren’s frown deepened. Something felt off about the girl. She flashed a wide smile full of teeth at them. It did nothing to settle Aren’s nerves. Then, her smile turned dark. Aren took a step back. In the light of the torch, they could see her eyes flicker to crimson before turning back to black.

“We’ve been waiting for you to return for so long!” She said happily. “Won’t you come and play with us, little eaglet?”

Before Aren could respond, the girl vanished right through the door. The torchlight was still fixed on the spot where the girl had been. They stared.

“Nope.” They shook their head. _So much nope._ The sudden appearance of random child in an otherwise abandoned mansion would be enough to unnerve most people. For Aren, it had them rethinking just about every life choice they had made up until this point. Experience had taught them that entities that appeared as children were seldom benign in nature. They were the ones that a wise person feared and ran from. Only a fool followed them.

_Looks like I’m the fool._ Aren let out a frustrated breath. They needed answers, and now it looked like they would be playing Victor’s game to get them. Any hope they had at being able to back out had died with the apparition of the little girl. _She called me little eaglet._ A lead weight settled in their stomach. _I’ve got a really bad feeling about this._

They grabbed the gun from their pack, shuffling the torch around to do so. Several sharp clicks reverberated throughout the otherwise quiet study. They glanced up at the door as they tugged on a leather shoulder holster. _A gun against a ghost...not the best idea I’ve ever had. Not the worst either, though._ The spirits that walked the Void often kept an eye on the physical world. Aren was hoping that gun violence was a common enough sight for some of them that the appearance of a gun in their hand would give them pause.

They headed to the door, torch in hand. They paused and took a breath to steel themself. _You’re a Grimstone, dammit._ Their ancestors had dealt with forces like these for centuries without flinching. Aren could be no different. If Victor really did have something nefarious planned, then it was their duty as the last Grimstone to stop him.

_In peace, vigilance. In war, victory. In death, sacrifice._ Aren was praying that it wasn’t going to come down to their death. They had promised Katherine they would come home, after all.

They stepped out into the dark corridors of Grimstone Manor. A child’s high pitched laugh echoed down the hallway as they shut the door behind them.

“Alright, Victor,” Aren said. “Let’s play.”


	8. Melancholy Memories

**** Aren carefully made their way down the hallway. Even with the torch in hand, the hallways were still darker than they remembered. Sickly green moonlight spilled in through the windows at the end of the corridor. It filled the hall with an eerie glow that made their grip tighten around the torch.

Their steps were slow and cautious. They fought the urge to flinch with every creak the floor gave from under them. A soft breeze brushing past them caused them to snap around. The torch revealed nothing behind them except for inky darkness.

Aren let out a frustrated breath.  _ Get a grip.  _ Potentially malevolent ghost girl and scheming dead uncle aside, there wasn’t any reason to be concerned. They were armed and if the gun failed to do anything, then they had their gifts to fall back on.

The ghostly girl in question was nowhere to be seen. Despite the boost that the Manor provided, Aren couldn’t sense neither hide nor tail of the girl anywhere. Something was there, though. It lurked at the edge of their sense, like a wolf in the shadows of a campfire. It put them even further on edge.

The squeaking of a door caught their attention. They shined the light in the direction of the noise. It revealed a door open ever so slightly.  _ Well, that’s not ominous at all.  _ If they weren’t the only person here, and if it wasn’t as dark as it was, they would’ve thought the open door inviting. Still, it was best to check it out, if only to see if that was where the girl had gone.

They approached the door, torchlight still firmly affixed on the gap. It revealed nothing. They reached out mentally to try and see if anything sat inside but could sense nothing. If it weren’t for the fact that they were standing right in front of the door, they could have easily thought that the area in question didn’t exist at all. Something was actively blocking them. It was as if a black hole had settled in their sense of awareness.

Aren exhaled harshly.  _ I hate not knowing.  _ Even if they couldn’t tell what was inside, their gut was telling them that they had to go in.

They carefully nudged the door open further with the nose of their gun. They did a quick sweep of the room with the torch as they peeked their head in. When nothing immediately jumped out at them, they stepped inside.

_ Here we go. _

_ - _

The torch beam revealed so much more once Aren entered the room. The walls were lined with numerous porcelain dolls. A crib sat tucked away in the corner. It was full of pillows and stuffed animals. Letters spelling out the name,  _ Margery _ , hung on the wall next to it. A rocking chair wasn’t far away. A shawl was draped over the back.

The lack of dust made it clear that the staff had been under orders to keep the room maintained. Aren’s heart clenched. How many nights had Victor and Analise sat in here, grieving? And how many nights after Analise’s death had Victor come in here to stare at a crib that would never know the occupant whose name was spelled on the wall? It had to have been agonising. No matter what they thought of Victor, Aren couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Losing a loved one was never easy. To lose a spouse and then a child shortly thereafter brought about a pain that Aren could scarcely imagine.

They pulled their eyes away from the crib to examine the rest of the room. A pass with the torch revealed a dollhouse in the middle of the room. Sitting atop a large mahogany table, it looked rather out of place when compared to the theme of the room.

Aren holstered the gun and walked over to it. They looked it over. The dollhouse was a little worn but otherwise it was a perfect replica the Manor. A single doll sat in front of the house. Aren gently picked the doll up, frowning as they took in its features. With snow white hair and crimson eyes hidden behind a small pair of glasses, the doll was a perfect replica of themselves. It even wore the same outfit Aren was wearing, right down to the shoulder holster they had put in earlier. It also held a key that matched the one that Eloise had left them.

A stone settled in their stomach. A replica of this nature wasn’t natural. On a whim, they raised the torch to illuminate dolls that were on the shelves on the walls. The faces that stared back seemed oddly familiar. Aren couldn’t quite place where they had seen them before.

Without warning, a music box began to play. Soft as it was, it sent chills down Aren’s spine.

_ “The Others that once lived here all died so long ago,”  _ A child’s voice sang. Aren’s head snapped to the right as the familiar nursery rhyme filled the air. They saw the girl from earlier walk past them.

_ How long was she here? _

She twirled in place.  _ “Their ghosts now haunt the shadows in the ancient crypts below…” _

Another pierrette brought her right next to Aren.  _ “Once their cold hands touch you, your heart will turn to stone…” _ She crooned.

She reached up at trailed a ghostly finger down their cheek. Aren flinched at the ice it left in its wake. Despite the height difference between them, fear slowly started to creep through Aren.

_ “But if you learn the secret, they’ll leave you all alone…”  _ She twisted away from them with a flourish and giggled.

Aren still had the torchlight directly and firmly on her. In its light, she appeared even more translucent than before. Though she looked like a little girl in a nightgown, it was obvious that she was anything but. She radiated malice. Something about her indicated that she was old, very old.

_ Just what kinds of things did Victor allow to roam these halls?  _ It was true that not every entity that walked the halls of Grimstone Manor was wholly benevolent. After all, time in the Void often warped a spirit’s perceptions regarding right and wrong. However, the truly malevolent beings, the ones whose time in the Void has twisted them so far that nothing of who they once were remained, they were never permitted to walk alongside the living. Instead, they were sealed away and mostly forgotten by the world at large while House Grimstone stood watch.

“Who are you?” Aren asked. They were pleased to hear that their voice didn’t waver.

The girl smiled widely at them. “I used to be called many different things by so many different people.” Her expression turned ugly. Aren’s stomach twisted in dread.

“Then you Grimstones locked me away and made my darlings forget about me!” The force of her shriek made Aren stumble back into the table. They hissed at the impact. Before they could recover, the girl was suddenly in front of them.

“But soon, little eaglet, they will remember. Thanks to Victor, my darlings will never again forget about me! They will--” She cut herself off suddenly.

Aren’s brow furrowed.  _ What on earth? _

The girl whipped around. “No!” She stomped her foot. “No! You don’t get to interrupt! You don’t get to stop this! Victor will--”

A gust of wind howled, silencing her. Aren brought their arms up to protect their face. They could feel the air shifting around them. Just as quickly as the wind had arrived, it was gone. Aren’s knees buckled. When they looked up, the nursery was gone. In its place was the endless expanse of the Void.

_ Well, that’s just wonderful. _

_ - _

“You really should be more careful, Aren,” a silky voice crooned.

Aren scowled and pushed themselves to their feet. They saw the black-eyed man standing before them. His arms were folded across his chest.

“You again.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Now that’s certainly no way to greet the person who just saved you.”

“I had it under control.”  _ Sort of. _

An enigmatic smile made its way across his lips. “I’m sure you did. But Delilah Moray is certainly not someone you want to tangle with, not now anyway.”

Aren’s frowned. “Who?” Delilah Moray was such a human sounding name. The girl they had faced was anything but.

He shook his head. “I’m not surprised you don’t recognise the name. It and her titles have been lost to time, after all.”

“I gathered that much,” Aren remarked dryly. “But  _ who _ is she, though?”  _ And  _ what _ is she?  _ He was talking about the girl, Delilah, like she’d been human at one point. But that couldn’t be possible. Yes, she had manifested as a human child, but that didn’t necessarily mean that she herself was human. Everything about her had screamed eldritch being, not human.

“Once, long ago, she was just a girl named Delilah who aspired for greater things. Her beauty was legendary. You wouldn’t know it, but a king once asked for her hand as small princes and even smaller lordlings fought for her favour.” His smiled turned grim. “I watched as she considered them all, measured their worth, and found all of them lacking. Then she made a different choice.”

He vanished, only to reappear on a small outcropping of rocks. His folded his hands behind his back as he gazed out into the distance.

“She consorted with forces that were far beyond her ken and used them to enthrall the masses. They considered her a queen and called her Mother. But it wasn’t enough.”

“Why not?”

He glanced back at Aren. “There was a small, upstart house that dared to tell Delilah no. She didn’t like that. At first, she tried seduction and when that didn’t work, she called upon her followers, her little darlings, to go after them and watched as they were all rebuffed.” He grinned. “In desperation, she tried to use forces she’d signed herself over to against them but it was all for naught.”

Aren frowned. Little of his cryptic speech was making sense.

“That little house sealed her away and made sure the world forgot about her. They broke her followers and dashed them against the stones so that no one would ever raise her name again.”

Realisation finally dawned on Aren.  _ He’s talking about House Grimstone.  _ It definitely sounded like something they would do. History had seen House Grimstone commit horrific deeds to prevent the occupants of the Void from spilling over into the land of the living. More than one human had stumbled upon ancient rituals and summoned things beyond their understanding or control. And more than one human had met their end at the hands of House Grimstone as a result.

“Let me guess: no one did, until Victor entered the picture.”

He hummed. A moment later and he was suddenly by Aren’s side. They suppressed a yelp.

_ I’m really starting to hate it when he does that. _

“Victor was quite the character. I, personally, never did find him interesting.” He shrugged. “But his charisma and his hunger certainly didn’t go unnoticed here. Things started paying attention when he began spinning his web. Things like Delilah.”

“Is she a part of his plan?” The way Delilah had spoken certainly made it seem like she was deeply involved in whatever it was Victor had planned.

“Thankfully, no, she’s not. She’s just hedging her bets. They all are.”

Aren’s frown deepened.  _ Hedging her bets?  _ What in the seven hells was that supposed to mean?

“What about you?” He didn’t appear to be malicious but they were still wary. Nothing in the Void offered aid without expecting something in return.

He rocked back on his heels. “I want to stop Victor,” he said simply. “But time has bound me by a different set of rules.”

_ Of course.  _ “So that is why I’m here, to help you.” It came out more bitter than Aren intended it to.  

He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Like I said earlier, I didn’t bring you here, Victor did. He needs you for tonight, but whether or not his plan comes to fruition is ultimately up to you.”

He started to walk away. “I find you much more interesting than Victor ever was, Aren Kaldwell,” he said. “I look forward to seeing what else happens tonight.”

Before Aren could say anything else, he snapped his fingers. The sound echoed throughout the Void. Moments later, a gust of wind screamed past Aren. They brought their arms back up to protect their face and squeezed their eyes shut.

-

When Aren’s eyes opened, they found themselves back in the nursery. Their torch had fallen to the floor. They sighed as they reached down to pick it up.

Torch in hand, they swept the beam across the room again. The girl,  _ Delilah,  _ they reminded themselves, was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the only sign that she’d been in the room was a thin tendril of ice on the table.

Aren gently ran their fingers over the ice. They fought back a flinch. It gave off a supernatural chill that bit into their fingertips.

“Dammit!” they hissed. They pulled their hand back and shook it out.

Aren glanced around the room as they worked to get feeling back into their fingers. Even in the dark, they could feel the eyes of many dolls upon them. It unnerved them more than they cared to admit.

They reached out mentally. Whatever it was that had blocked their sensory ability had finally departed. Now, they could feel just how wrong the nursery truly was. Grief and longing hung heavily around the room. It swept over Aren and made them tighten their grip on the torch as they tried to maintain their composure. They unconsciously licked their lips as they fought back a lump in their throat. The air tasted bitter as echoes of shed tears filled it.

Aren let out a breath.  _ Best not to linger in here.  _ The grief was overwhelming and there was something underneath it that they couldn’t quite place. They weren’t sure they liked it. Something in their gut was telling them that staying in the room wasn’t the best idea, especially with Delilah still roaming about.

They swift made for the door. Despite the pressing weight of the dolls’ gazes, Aren refused to glance behind them.  _ This entire room is one giant pile of nope.  _ If they survived tonight, the first thing to go when they took control of the Manor would be the dolls.

A sharp twist of the doorknob had the door open. They quickly pushed past it and stumbled out into the hallway.

-

The first thing Aren saw once their eyes had adjusted to the dim, moonlit corridor was a small child standing in front of them. They bit back a scream at the sight and tripped back into the door they had just closed behind them.

The child frowned. “Why are you so scared?”

“I--you--” Aren stammered. “Where did you come from?”

Like Aren, the child had white hair and red eyes that appeared to shine in the green moonlight spilling down the hallway. They look familiar, but like the dolls that had lined the walls of the nursery, Aren couldn’t place where’d they’d seen this child before.  _ In town, maybe?  _ A few children in town had died over the years since their flight, along with several more during their tenure as a doctor. For better or worse, children, being as curious as they were, tended to linger for a considerable amount of time. However, given that most other things that manifested as children were rarely benign, the appearance of a child’s spirit always made Aren incredibly wary. At least this child didn’t feel malevolent, unlike Delilah.

The child tilted their head. “I was always here, just like the others.”

_ Others? _

“What are you talking about?” Aren demanded. “Who are you, anyway?”

The child shrugged. “I just am.”

The past hour or so had left Aren with little patience. They had neither the time, nor the inclination, to deal with such cryptic speech. They reached out mentally once again, trying to get a better feel of just who, or what, was before them. The sensation that returned to them was...interesting. As young as the child looked, they felt old. Ancient.  _ Almost like the black-eyed man… _

The child huffed. “That’s not very nice!” they protested.

Aren withdrew immediately. “Sorry,” they apologised. They could feel their cheeks heating up.

The child huffed again. Then, they gave Aren a thoughtful, side-eyed glance.

“Victor never apologised.”

Aren’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “You knew Victor?” Almost as soon as the question left their mouth, they wanted to facepalm. Of course the child, person, entity, before them knew him. They were tied to the Void. Everything in the Void knew of House Grimstone and its members.

“Everyone knows Victor, but he doesn’t know us, not truly.”  _ What?  _ “He never took the time.”

The child looked ready to say more, but then they suddenly turned their gaze down the hallway. Aren followed their stare, letting their powers move out as they did so. When nothing immediately jumped out at them, they gave the child a confused look.

“There’s nothing there, you know.”

“No, not yet there isn’t.” They still had a faraway look in their eye. They glanced back at Aren. “Come on now, we can’t keep her waiting.”

“Her? Who’s waiting?” Aren asked.

The child said nothing, instead choosing to grab their hand and tug them down the hallway.

Aren let out a small yelp as they stumbled for the first few steps. They were thrown but the sudden change in attitude. But, with the vice-grip around their hand, they decided not to question it. After all, refusal rarely boded well when something much older and powerful insisted that you follow them.

_ This better not backfire on me… _

_ - _

Aren and the child came to an abrupt halt before a grand set of doors. Aren immediately recognised them. How could they not? Carved from dark walnut generations ago, the doors led to an expansive library that held old tomes and manuscripts that would make many a museum curator jealous.

The child let go of Aren’s hand. “G’wan now,” they urged. “She’s waiting for you.”

“So you keep telling me,” Aren replied dryly. “Do you mind letting me know just who exactly is waiting for me?”

The child shook their head. “It’s not for me to say. But you know her.”

_ That’s no help.  _ Though gender had no meaning to most of the occupants of the Void, some still held to whatever it was they identified as while they’d been alive. Aren had encountered a number of female spirits over the years. Some had been kind, curious of the young individual who had wandered the Void in their dreams. Others had had little patience and quickly dismissed them.

“Do I now?”

“Mhm.” The child hummed. They stepped away from Aren and gently pushed them forward to the door. “Now, get going. It’s rude to keep people waiting, and she’s been waiting a long time for you.”

Aren glanced at them, still uncertain about what was to come, before giving the doors a firm shove. The ancient hinges, while well maintained, still made a groan of protest at the movement. They steeled themselves. Before stepping through, they felt the child’s hand leave theirs. They looked over their shoulder.

“Wait!” Aren called out.

The child stopped. In the torchlight, Aren saw the curious look cross their face. “What’s wrong?”

“I never did get your name.”

They tilted their head. “Victor never asked for my name.”

_ Of course he didn’t.  _ “I think we’ve established that I’m not Victor,” Aren said.

The child was silent. Aren bit their lip. To ask for the name of one who inhabited the Void was a bold request, for names held a considerable amount of power there. Some, especially those desperate for acknowledgement or companionship, were more than happy to give them. But most were not. Many, particularly the older denizens, guarded their names jealously. Aren had learned the names of more than a few of the Void’s occupants, but it had taken them years to do so.

“You don’t have to tell me,” they assured. “I just wanted to know who to thank, if I survived the night.”

“…Meredith,” the child whispered at last.

A small smile crossed Aren’s lips. “That’s a nice name,” they said. “It’s good to meet you Meredith, and thank you.”

Meredith returned the smile before turning her back on them. “You should go now, Aren,” she said. Gone was the youthful innocence in her voice. In its place was a tone that spoke volumes about her true age. “You’ve kept her waiting long enough.”

Aren nodded. They turned their attention back to the slightly open doors before them. They could make out a hint of light coming from deeper with in. They let out a breath and pushed through, leaving Meredith alone.

-

Meredith closed her eyes as the doors to the library creaked shut behind Aren. When she opened them, she found herself back in the Void. The black-eyed man was standing close by.

“So…you gave them your name,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

She said nothing.

“Not quite what you expected, were they?” he asked. “I’ll admit, they weren’t what I was expecting either.”

“Do you really think they’ll stop him?” she finally asked.

He shrugged. “It’s not for me to say,” he said. “They’re strong, stronger than Fredrick even, but there’s something about them that I just can’t pin down.”

“They aren’t Fredrick.”

“No,” he sighed. “They are not.” Where Fredrick was a firebrand, his child was cool. Where he was pragmatic, they were passionate. Where he would have seen things in black and white, they saw various shades of grey.

“Then why put them through this?” she demanded. Aren had done nothing to deserve this. They hadn’t walked the halls of the Manor in years. They were ignorant to what had happened there.  _ Why run the risk of them baulking at the last minute? _

He vanished in a swirl of black minnows only to reappear on a small outcropping of rocks nearby. He stared out into the Void.

“Because, my dear, time has taught this family that some burdens can’t be forced,” he said. “They must be accepted willingly, or the resentment they breed will bring us right back to where we started: at the brink of doom.”

Meredith couldn’t argue against that. The burden that House Grimstone held was a great one. They were barrier between the world of the living and the Void. She, along with others in the Void, had seen the actions the House had taken throughout the ages to preserve that delicate balance. They had all watched throughout the ages just what kind of toll it took on its members. Whereas before, House Grimstone had been the enigmatic family held in high esteem, they were now regarded with scorn and surrounded in superstition.

Meredith returned her attention to the expanse. She and he watched as Aren made their way through the library. She closed her eyes once more and whispered the names of spirits long departed, urging whatever remained on them to help Aren in the ways that she couldn’t.

-

Aren finally found where the light was coming from. They could hear a fire crackling merrily away in the fireplace. They frowned. They stepped out from behind one of the many bookshelves, ready to meet whoever, or whatever, it was awaiting them only to freeze in place.

“Aunt Analise?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Please a comment and/or a kudos. Come ask questions or say hi on tumblr @sandstonesunspear


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